


Teen She-Wolf

by RickyPine



Series: Summer Vacation Trilogy [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Alpha Pack, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, M/M, Teen Wolf (Post-Season 2), Vampires, werelynx
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 01:53:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 24,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6100966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RickyPine/pseuds/RickyPine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Allison's mother couldn't let herself become a werewolf. Then again, Mrs. Argent didn't have as many people to support her.</p><p>When a new Alpha comes to town and turns Allison, she wants to kill him and return herself to normal as soon as humanly possible. But as Scott and Stiles help her track down the one who bit her, it becomes clear that this Alpha is just one of many new threats to the once-sleepy little town of Beacon Hills. And among those threats may be one for which Derek will need to do something he would have previously considered unthinkable - team up with a vampire to defeat it.</p><p>(Part 1 of the Summer Vacation Trilogy. This is an alternate universe fic. It is set after Season 2, and takes the first two seasons as canon, but Season 3 and onwards will not occur after the events of this trilogy. Any and all OC's are owned by me. Teen Wolf is owned by MTV, MGM, and that Grand Pabbie of Rock Troll Writers himself, Jeff Davis.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nothing Gets Past Those Keen Werewolf Senses

There had been many times when Scott had been perched outside Allison’s bedroom window at night. Maybe he didn’t even know she was aware of his presence, but she was. She was just smart enough to be a little paranoid about having a supernatural creature exhibiting such behavior towards her. And she was just in love with him enough that she found it another one of his many endearing attributes.

Tonight, though, the tables had turned. Tonight, Allison was perched outside Scott’s bedroom window. If one had asked her just yesterday if she could have managed the climb, she would have said “No.” Not “Never in a million years,” but a simple, flat, honest “No.”

But that would have been yesterday. And tonight, everything had changed.

As Allison knocked on the glass with her forehead, she reminded herself irresistibly of the night she and Scott first met. Not the day she’d set foot in Beacon Hills High for the first time, but the night she’d hit a dog with her car and brought her to the vet’s office. Allison had panicked so much that night, but Scott had been there to fix the dog up just fine, and he’d even lent her his spare shirt because hers was wet from having been rained on.

Meanwhile in the real world, Scott heard Allison’s knock and bolted out of bed, getting ready to fight whatever intruder was trying to get into his room - until he saw her. She saw him breathe a sigh of relief, then he grabbed a shirt off the floor (as if she hadn’t seen him without one many times before) and put it on before opening the window.

“Hey,” he said, leaning out to kiss her forehead. “What’s up?” Before Allison could answer his question, however, Scott stiffened, sniffing the air. Even if he were still an ordinary human, he probably would have had no trouble picking up on the metallic tang of blood.

Allison’s blood.

“Holy…” Scott couldn’t even finish whatever curse he had in mind. “What happened? What bit you?”

Allison’s hand flew to the wound in her arm. “It was a werewolf.”

“What? A werewolf? Are you sure?”

“I saw its eyes. They were red.”

Allison looked into Scott’s own eyes. Her Aunt Kate, as disturbed and psychotic and skeevy as she was, had been more than right about one thing - Scott really did have the most adorable big brown eyes. Not for long, though. She could clearly see the gold flash in there now.

He took a few deep breaths to steady himself, then he climbed out the window. “I’ll take you to Deaton’s office,” he said. “Get you patched up.”

“Um...how is that gonna help me?” Allison asked. “Did you miss the part where I said I was bitten by an Alpha?”

“Of course not,” Scott said. “But you need something to keep that covered, unless you wanna get infected. Live today, fight tomorrow, you get it?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I get it, but-”

“And don’t worry,” Scott said, holding Allison’s free hand. “Your dad isn’t gonna find out about this.”

He made to jump off the roof, but Allison held him back. “Aren’t you gonna want to put on some pants first?”

Scott looked down and realized that he still had only boxers on below the waist. “Crap, you’re right,” he groaned. “And I don’t even have my keys either. What the hell was I thinking, huh?” He laughed weakly, but Allison didn’t join in. After getting his pants and keys, Scott rejoined Allison on the roof, helping her climb back down to the ground. “Don’t worry,” he said, stroking her hair for a moment before they set off for Deaton’s office. “Everything’s gonna be all right.”


	2. Only At First Did It Have Its Appeal

*****STILES*****

When I wake up, I hear birds twittering outside my window. I never hear birds twittering outside my window. That’s probably because Beacon Hills, despite all outward appearances, is far from your ordinary, garden-variety sleepy small town. I should know. I’ve spent the better part of the last year or so discovering just how supernaturally screwed-up this place is. Not to a _Twin Peaks_ level or anything, but then Beacon Hills doesn’t pretend to be as charming and sickeningly-fifties-sweet as Twin Peaks ever did.

I’ve always thought that usually, there’s no birds because some werewolf or other, more dangerous creature eats them all. I don’t think it would be Scott - he doesn’t have that serial-killer animal-killer thing going on. Derek probably does, but I can’t imagine him maintaining his ripped bod on a diet of however many mourning doves and robins every night. He’s much more of a red-meat kind of guy.

I pull the covers off. Because of the high altitude here, nights tend to get really cold, even in summer. Like, here it is, June 3rd, and according to the thermometer on my alarm clock, it’s only 58 degrees in my room. Which probably translates to low 40s outside. Definitely cold enough for my breath to show.

So far, this first weekend of summer vacation hasn’t been very eventful at all. In fact, Scott suggested we go see _Age of Ultron_ today. Just him and me. It’s what he needs, after he broke up with Allison. I feel so bad for them both. What they had together was special, something I honestly don’t think I would ever experience. Especially if I keep foolishly holding out for Lydia. I know she and I don’t click that way, but you can’t fault me for continuing to carry that spark of hope in my heart, can you?

I didn’t think so.

I change out of my usual sleepwear and put on my usual street-wear. In this case, blue jeans and a Captain America T-shirt. Yeah, I’m going to be that guy, wearing a shirt advertising the movie I’m going to see. And why not? It’s perfect for the occasion.

Then my phone rings. My ringtone, “Gold” by Imagine Dragons, fills the room with its indescribably awesome sound. But seeing Scott’s name on the screen, I don’t feel quite so awesome. Scott almost never actually calls me. If he wants to talk to me, he either texts, video-chats, or actually talks to me in person. That last one’s kind of a lost art, even more so than making phone calls. Even my dad’s office has started using one of those automated monstrosities that puts you on hold when you try and call to report a mugging, or a drunk-and-disorderly, or a brutal Kanima attack on your friendly local gay club.

“Hey, what’s up?” I say, trying to fight down the slowly rising paranoia I’m feeling somewhere in my throat.

“ _Stiles, you gotta come down to Deaton’s office,_ ” Scott says, his tone of voice urgent. “ _It’s Allison. She’s been bitten._ ”

“Bitten?” I repeat. I’m about to add “By what?” - but that would be a stupid question. Unless there’s some other kind of creature in this town that spreads its supernatural ability through biting - and as far as I’m aware, right now there aren’t any - the answer to that stupid question would be “a werewolf.”

“ _Yeah, so, uh, you need to come down here,_ ” Scott says. “ _It’s too bad we probably won’t get to see that movie, huh?_ ”

“Yeah, too bad,” I say, letting the words drag out a bit. “But, to be honest, I had a premonition our little hangout time wouldn’t get to happen anyway, so…”

I think I hear Scott trying not to laugh. At least that means he’s not too emotional over what’s just happened to be even the tiniest bit cheered up.

“I’ll be there in five minutes,” I say.

“Okay. See you later.” Scott hangs up, leaving me alone with my thoughts for a moment. I look down at my Captain America shirt - now I don’t want to wear it, because I don’t want to keep reminding Scott (and myself) of the cinematic awesomeness we won’t get to see today. So I change into a plain white ringer tee, adding one of my many plaid button-downs on top of that. Before I put the Captain America shirt away, though, I wrap it around my head so I can let out a string of angry swear words while not waking up the neighbors. Real swear words, not that sort of “daggummit” crap that comes from the mouth of the dad on _A Christmas Story_.

I swear to God, one of these days, I’ll have to help Scott find out what the hell it is that attracts all the werewolves to this town, then kill it with fire or wolfsbane or silver bullets or whatever it’s most vulnerable to. Don’t get me wrong, at least it gives me something to do, fighting the inhuman threats that come to Beacon Hills on a way-too-regular basis. But like lacrosse, it’s not something I can see myself doing for my entire life. Mostly because I think one of these days, it just might kill me first.

I grab my wallet before heading out the door. I haven’t even had any kind of breakfast - no bowl of cereal, no toaster waffles, not even a single cup of coffee. I want to stop at the nearest coffee shop and get an espresso, at least. But waiting for that might take me at least ten minutes, and I promised Scott I’d be there in five.

So I fold my wallet closed, blocking my driver’s license from view. I’ve gotten so used to being called “Stiles,” even by my own dad, that I don’t think I’ve ever answered to my real first name. Sometimes, I even make the mistake of signing my name as “Stiles Stilinski.” In fact, when I first applied for my license, Dad made sure I got about five different copies of the form. I needed all of those, because I wasted the first four before finally entering and signing my actual name: “Casimir Stilinski.” But as soon as I’m old enough, I’m planning to legally change my first name to “Stiles.” And if anyone asks me after that why I’m not a certain British boy-band member, I’ll just say I had the name first, and it was stolen and altered for the other guy’s purposes.

Sometimes, the trains of thought I find myself boarding just astound me. None of them ever follow a straight path, but instead wind around and around in spirals and pyramids and other shapes best left in sci-fi books. It’s a wonder the paths I follow in the physical world take me where I’m supposed to be going. Like right now - after all this random crap about my name going through my head, here I am in the parking lot of Deaton’s office. Right on time, too. Imagine that.

As I get out of my Jeep, I see a girl walking up the street. She’s really tall for a girl - I mean, Allison’s also tall for a girl, but this one looks even more so. She’s got a hoodie on, her head bent down. But then she looks up, and I catch her eye. “Excuse me?” she calls out in a strange accent. British, I think. Or maybe Australian. “Could you, er, tell me where to find this address?”

She holds out a slip of paper in a pale brown hand with slim fingers. I take a look at the paper and recognize the address right away. “Um, sure. Yeah, I know where it is. But what are you goin’ there for? There’s nothing there but a wreck of an old house.”

“That’s exactly what I’m looking for,” the girl says. “So which way do I go?”

I consider it for a moment. If this girl really has business with Derek, I should send her up to his new place - he’s now living in a loft in an old warehouse on the edge of town. But what if she’s a bad guy? What if she’s been sent to kill him or something? Derek’s been really cagey lately - even more so than usual. Scott and I both think he’s trying to hide something. Like, does he know when the next new threat is coming? Or who they might be?

Of course, if this girl really is meant to attack, hurt, and/or kill Derek, she’ll have a tough time of it. She’s tall, but very thin. He’s got her by a good four inches and at least seventy-five pounds. There’s no way she could beat Derek in a fight, if it came down to that. Whoever would have sent her to fight him would have to be a complete and utter moron. So, I’m gonna guess that she’s here for a much less violent purpose.

I direct her to Derek’s loft, then go into Deaton’s office after she heads off in that direction.

Allison’s lying on the metal table where Deaton usually examines his animal patients. A table where Derek, for one, has been a patient himself on a few occasions. Like the time when Kate Argent shot him with a wolfsbane-tipped bullet.

Allison normally has this aura about her...I wouldn’t call it “happy,” but “positive.” Even when she’s not in the best of moods (which is, admittedly, pretty rare), her presence is usually enough to make people feel better. Again, I find myself wishing she and Scott were still together. Looking at them right now, the way Scott is standing and watching over her, it’s easy to forget they ever broke up  - but for all the wrong reasons.

Allison’s not looking so positive right now. She’s gone pale, and she’s clutching her arm. There’s a bandage there, with a roughly circle-shaped ring of blood soaking through the gauze. I bet the actual bite’s healed by now, depending on how long it’s been since she was bitten.

Sure enough, when Scott unwraps the bandage, there’s no sign of any bite on Allison’s skin. That’s a good sign because it means the bite didn’t kill her. But it’s also a bad sign because it means she’s not immune like Lydia was. She’s turned. Or she will turn. Either way, she’s no longer 100% human.

“So, now what?” I ask. “We gotta start lookin’ for the one that bit her, right? Was it Derek? Or one of his pack? I knew we couldn’t trust those-”

Allison sits up and shakes her head. “No, it wasn’t anyone we know. I didn’t recognize this one. But I knew he was an Alpha - he had red eyes.”

Scott nods. “She already told me all that, Stiles.”

“You said you didn’t recognize him?” I ask. “But that means you saw his...oh wait, he would’ve been shifted. Yeah, I don’t think gettin’ a sketch artist is gonna do us much good.”

“You’re probably right.” Scott sighs through his nose.

“Wherever he is, though, he can’t be that far,” I say. “I mean, if he’s an Alpha, maybe he’s got a pack with him too. And maybe he’s tryin’ to muscle in on Derek’s territory.”

Allison lets out a bark of laughter. (I’m not kidding - it really is a bark.) “Muscle in on his territory? I’d like to see him try.”

“Well, Derek’s not been an Alpha for very long,” Scott points out. “You think he’s ready for a challenge like this? And his pack is a little bit on the dysfunctional side and all…” He’s interrupted by his phone ringing. I think he’s changed his ringtone recently - I don’t remember it being “Oh Love” before. “Dammit,” he groans before answering. “Hey, Jackson,” he says. I know right away what they’re going to be talking about - ever since Jackson was turned from a Kanima to a plain old werewolf, he and the other young wolves in Derek’s pack, plus Scott, have all been doing this daily werewolf-practice sort of thing in the woods near the Hale house. “I’m sorry, but the whole workout thing’s gonna have to wait. Allison’s been bitten, and-”

“ _What?_ ” Jackson’s voice comes through the phone so loudly that Scott is forced to hold it away from his ear. Allison and I both cover our ears at the same time. I bet it’s worse for her, though, since her hearing’s now werewolf-enhanced.

“ _Did one of you guys do it?_ ” Jackson yells. I guess he’s talking to the rest of Derek’s pack, because next, I hear someone mumbling something - Isaac, I think - followed by Jackson growling, “ _Don’t lie! Did you attack Allison last night?_ ”

He must be totally wolfed out right now. I exchange glances with Scott, who shakes his head as if to say, “ _The Lord is testing me._ ” Jackson needs the training more than any of the others, because he’s not been a werewolf for very long, and he used to be something much worse. He’s still having trouble keeping a handle on his inner beast sometimes. And who knew he could still get super-defensive over Allison? I remember he and Scott were sort-of rivals for winning her heart before the whole Kanima thing, but I thought he was all into Lydia now. If I weren’t such a nice guy (or such a skinny, defenseless one), I’d have done what Scott once did, and really taught him a lesson.

“Jackson, it’s not one of ours,” Allison says, sliding off the table. Scott holds the phone out and presses the speaker button, so now we can all hear Jackson loud and clear, myself included.

“ _What?_ ” A bit of noise comes out of the speaker - I guess Jackson dropped the phone when he went after Isaac. That part’s confirmed when I hear him distinctly muttering “ _Jesus Christ_ ” somewhere in the background.

“ _Are you sure?_ ” Jackson asks as soon as he’s got the phone in hand again.

“Positive,” Allison says.

Jackson sighs, the sound scratchy and harsh over the speakers of Scott’s phone. “ _We’re gonna start lookin’ around. Where did it happen?_ ”

Allison’s about to answer when the phone beeps a couple of times. “Shit, I’m gettin’ another call,” Scott says, checking the screen. “Jackson, could you hold on a couple of minutes? Allison and I will meet you guys in the woods.”

He and Allison, huh? What am I, chopped liver? I give Scott a pained look while he thumbs the screen to take the other call. In my head, I’m butchering a Christmas song: _All of the other werewolves used to laugh and call him names. They never let poor Stiles join in any werewolf games…_

Scott takes a split second to check the name on his phone’s screen before talking to our new caller. “What’s up, Derek?” he asks.

Derek doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he lets out a huge, almost melodramatic sigh. I guess he’s pissed, and my guess turns out to be correct. “ _Pardon me for soundin’ like your lunatic lacrosse coach, but which one of you teenage morons led a goddamn vampire to my door?_ ”

Scott and Allison look at me suspiciously. Do they have some kind of lovers’ telepathy that lets their minds tune in with each other?

“Why’re you lookin’ at me?” I ask. “Do you really think…” I stop when I see their eyes flash gold. Allison’s, too. The sight is enough to disturb me like I’ve never been disturbed before. “Okay, I did it. But I didn’t know that girl was a vampire, I swear! Is it really as bad as you’re makin’ it sound, or…” I can almost feel Derek looking down on me with disapproval through the phone, which is sitting there, eerily silent. “Okay, I’ll shut up now.”

“Derek, we can’t deal with this right now,” Allison says. “I got bitten by an alpha last night, so we’re gonna go looking for it in the woods.”

“ _Not all of you,_ ” Derek says. “ _Send Stiles up to me with a couple of stakes. I know that druid vet keeps a few locked up somewhere in his office._ ”

“Me? Really?” I ask, not sure if I should be the one sent to take care of a vampire.

“ _Yes, you, Stiles_ _,_ ” Derek says. “ _Bring two at least. One for me in case you miss._ ”

If I’d been drinking something, I’d be spitting it all over the place right now. “We’re not gonna kill her, are we?”

“ _Only if we have to,_ ” Derek says.

“ _Excuse me?_ ” I hear the British-accented voice of that girl I saw on the street. Nothing about her appearance really screamed “vampire” to me...well, she did have her hood up and her head down. Maybe she was avoiding the sun that way?

“ _Just sit tight,_ ” Derek tells the vampire girl. To me, he adds, “ _Oh, and Stiles? Make sure they’re mountain ash._ ” He hangs up, leaving me to stare at the phone.

Scott pulls a key from his pocket and crosses the room, opening a small, out-of-the-way metal box. Inside, I see a number of stakes of various types of wood. At least two are mountain ash - they’re the same light color as the railing in Deaton’s waiting room, which is made of the same wood to deter unwanted supernatural callers. Because Scott can’t pick up the stakes himself, I have to take them before he locks up the box again.

“You guys need a ride?” I ask Scott and Allison, tucking the stakes into the waistband of my jeans like they’re guns.

Allison shakes her head. “No thanks. I could do with the exercise.”

“And besides,” Scott says, “you need breakfast, dude. Or at least a cup of coffee. You’re a sugar crash waitin’ to happen.”

“You can smell that, huh?” I ask, cocking my head. “Next thing you know, you’ll be my cancer-sniffing service werewolf.”

Scott and Allison literally laugh me out the door. “No, but your hands are hella shaky,” Scott points out. “Seriously, get something to eat. I dunno much about vampires, but I bet they’d be tricky enough to take on even on a full stomach.”

“It’s daytime, though,” I point out. “All we’ll need to do is cook her in the sun for a bit.”

Allison’s lips curl. No doubt she’s seen worse, especially with her family being a bunch of hunters. But she must have a renewed appreciation for supernatural creatures, knowing that there’s some exceptions to the rule of them always wanting to hunt humans down. Like Scott, for instance. I bet she’s a lot less “shoot first, ask questions later” nowadays. Which is good for her, I guess.

Scott and Allison wave goodbye to me as I get into the Jeep. Before turning on the engine, though, I’m forced to take the stakes out of my pants. What the hell was I thinking, sticking them back there? Whichever action-movie hero was the first to put weapons that close to their valuables ought to be shot with their own gun. I mean, seriously.

I stop to get myself a cappuccino on the way to Derek’s loft. My only hope is that when I leave the stakes on the passenger seat, nobody from the Sheriff’s Department (least of all my dad) stops to look in my Jeep for any reason.


	3. I Gotta Tell You, You Had It Coming

*****DEREK*****

There’s a few things people think are true about vampires. Most of them are myths, of course, like vampires themselves are supposed to be. Yeah, I know I’m saying that as an equally (supposedly) mythological werewolf, but that’s beside the point.

One of the things that is true about them is the fact that they’re not able to enter buildings uninvited. Which means I can have the door to my building wide open, with a vampire girl standing just a few inches shy of the threshold, and not run the risk of being attacked. Even as the morning sun pours onto her from behind, which can’t be doing her any good. Even that black hoodie she’s wearing won’t be enough to filter out all the UV rays, and vampires have very, very light-sensitive skin. It’s a shame to ruin it - this vampire is actually very pretty.

Except when she’s glaring at me, her lips curled in a half-disgusted, half-angry grimace. “I really do need to talk to you, you know,” she says in her British accent. “We know about the Alpha Pack, Derek Hale. And we know you’re not any more keen to have them around than we are.”

“I dunno what you’re talkin’ about,” I say with a casual shrug. Inside, though, my pulse is starting to accelerate. Why would a vampire coven know about an Alpha Pack coming to Beacon Hills? Vampires normally avoid California anyway. Even Northern California is too sunny for them. They prefer clouds and rain, which is why there’s a lot of them up in the Northwest. And also why I’ve never actually gone to the Northwest - because why get into an unnecessary fight?

“You know, vampires can smell lies too,” she says, crossing her arms and continuing to sneer at me. “You’re not gonna bullshit me here.”

“No, but I’m also not gonna tell you what you seem to wanna hear,” I say, matching her sneer as best I can. “Since when have we gotten along, anyway?”

“That’s a presumptuous thing to say,” the vampire girl says. “We’ve never gotten along, ‘cause we’ve never met before.”

“But you know my name anyway. Am I really that famous?”

“Hah! Try ‘infamous.’ That’ll be closer to the mark in describing you Hales.”

I look over the vampire girl’s shoulder as I see Stiles’ familiar borderline-rust-bucket of a Jeep pulling into the entrance to the warehouse. Why the vampire girl was able to cross that door but not the one leading to the stairs (and, by extension, my loft), I’m not sure. But then, I have to admit that because I’ve never really dealt with one of her species before, I’m not so well-versed on their lore. Uncle Peter would be a better source of information, but I’d much rather not go to him if I can help it. I think he’s still got some hard feelings after I had to kill him and take his Alpha power away.

“So you’ve heard of my family,” I say. “Did you also hear about the fact that they all died in a fire six years ago?”

“Clearly not _all_ _,_ ” the vampire points out. “What about you? And your uncle, as disreputable as he is.”

Stiles climbs out of his Jeep, armed with the pair of stakes I’d asked him to pick up at Deaton’s office. “Toss one to me,” I say, holding up my left hand - which I’ve covered in a leather work glove to protect myself from the harmful effects of the mountain ash.

“Good morning to you too,” Stiles says. Of course the kid has to give me lip. He hesitates before throwing the stake over the vampire girl’s shoulder. I’m forced to lean a long way forward before I can catch it. Then I point the business end at the vampire girl.

“Really?” she asks, raising her eyebrows.

“Stiles, get behind her,” I say, ignoring her angry-duck noises of protest. Stiles follows my order and points the stake at her - blunt end first. He then looks down, sees his mistake, and corrects himself with a nervous laugh. I, meanwhile, sigh heavily at his flash of ineptitude.

“Now you can come in,” I say to the vampire girl. “But no funny business, _¿comprende?_ ”

“ _Sí, comprendo,_ ” she says, looking between me and Stiles with a distinct look of fear on her face.

I’m momentarily thrown by her response. But then, there’s no reason why she shouldn’t know Spanish just because she’s a vampire. Sure, they wouldn’t have a great presence in Spanish-speaking countries, because the climates tend to be too warm for them. But that’s not to say the only foreign languages they get to learn are Romanian and/or Russian. (Unfortunately, I had to read _Vampire Academy_ in my high school days, because the vampires in that story were said to be the closest match to the real thing. Seeing this girl, I’m guessing she’s of the type that inspired the Moroi in those books. Tall, lithe, graceful. Not alabaster-skinned, though.)

I back away and allow the vampire girl to come in. The whole time, I’m walking...well, not really backwards, but about halfway between that and a sideways Hammertime-walk. I have to keep my stake trained on her, but I also have to be able to see where I’m going. I’ve not been living here long enough to really be familiar with the layout of this warehouse.

“All right,” I say as soon as we’re all in the loft and I signal Stiles to lower his stake before he breaks something. I, however, keep mine aimed at the vampire girl. “First things first-”

“ _‘_ _I’m the realest, realest_ _,’_ ” Stiles says in a really bad impression of a southern accent.

I turn away from the vampire girl long enough to glare at him. “Why did you have to quote...that?”

“Just tryin’ to defuse the tension, my good man,” Stiles says, grinning unabashedly.

“With Iggy Azalea? Seriously?” Even the vampire girl looks disgusted as she says this. Speaking of which, I still don’t know her name. Since I don’t want to keep calling her “the vampire girl” forever, I finally do the polite thing and ask her name. “Skylar Renard,” she says. “Yeah, I’m aware my name is French for ‘fox.’ Don’t use that as another excuse to hate me.”

“So what brings you here, Skylar Renard?” I ask, flexing my fingers around the stake. It’s actually pretty awkward to hold it in a gloved hand, but I’ve got no choice. It’s the only way I can hold it without getting poisoned.

“You already know why I’m here,” Skylar says, crossing her arms and glaring at me all over again. “Because of the-”

I hold up my hand until she shuts up. “Not in front of the kid, okay?” I say.

Stiles narrows his eyes. “Hey, I’m an equal member of this pack, you know.”

“Not when you’re a human, you’re not,” I point out. “Besides, this is something just for me and mine to deal with. Not you, Stiles. And certainly not for vampires.”

“‘You and yours?’” Skylar scoffs. “You have no children. And your species’ misbegotten reproduction method doesn’t count. Do you really care for your Betas as a true father cares for his sons and daughters?”

“We can reproduce like humans too,” I hiss. “Don’t get sanctimonious on me.”

“Then let’s discuss the problem we’re all facing,” Skylar says. “In a calm, non-lethal manner, if you please.”

“Fine,” I grumble. “Stiles, you can stay. You probably would’ve eavesdropped anyway and gone to Scott and Allison to let them know what’s goin’ on.”

“Oh yeah, speaking of Allison, did you know she got bitten by an Alpha?” Stiles asks.

I almost drop the stake in my surprise. “What?” I ask. In my head, I’m thinking, _Oh shit. They’re gettin’ even more belligerent than I thought._

“Yeah, that’s about how I reacted too,” Stiles says. “Glad to see we’re on the same page.”

“Who’s Allison?” Skylar asks.

“A friend of ours,” Stiles says.

“The daughter of hunters,” I say. “Don’t worry - they tried to corrupt her, and failed. Of course, the fact that I bit her mom and indirectly drove the bitch to suicide doesn’t exactly endear me to her and her family.”

“And she was bitten by an Alpha?” Skylar asks. “One from that Alpha Pack, I’d assume?”

Stiles perks up upon hearing what I wanted to keep private. “Alpha Pack? Does that mean what I think it means? Shit, just when you think things aren’t bad enough...we must really be bad-luck magnets around here, you know what I’m sayin’?”

“Please don’t talk out loud,” I say.

“Yeah, you’ll lower the IQ of the whole street,” Skylar quips.

“But I’m right, aren’t I?” Stiles asks. “This Alpha Pack’s gotta be hella bad news, right?”

“Yeah,” I say. “Yeah, and if they’re taking new victims, they must wanna really flex their muscles. Which would mean they’d wanna take me out, ‘cause I’m the main obstacle to their dominance here-”

“And as much as we don’t enjoy having werewolf packs running around,” Skylar says pointedly, “having a pack of murderous Alphas would be even worse. Which is why I’m here - the leadership of my coven sent me to do recon, see if we need to intervene.”

“‘Intervene,’ she says,” I say with a loud snort of laughter. “You’d kill my pack as well if you weren’t careful. And something tells me you wouldn’t be careful.”

“Ouch, that stings,” Skylar says with an angry, sarcastic pout.

“So does your joke about ‘running around,’” I say. “That’s not what my pack and I do.” My phone rings, and I stop to answer it - the call’s coming from Scott. “What’s up?” I ask, holding the phone up with my free (left) hand - which I’m not used to doing, actually, since I’m a righty. “You got anything from your little run through the woods?” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Skylar roll hers.

“ _We tracked down the Alpha,_ ” Scott says. “ _I think. He’s holed up in your old place, and he’s tagged the door with this weird triangle symbol. Does that mean anything to you?_ ”

“Yeah, it does, but I can’t explain right now,” I say. “I’m busy tryin’ to talk to a vampire.”

“ _Talk to her, right? Not interrogate, or torture?_ ”

“Yes, my wannabe-superhero friend. We’re just talking.” I glance over at Skylar for another moment and see her roll her eyes again. “If you can get me a picture of the Alpha, send it to me. We’ll see if I can recognize him.”

“ _Just a sec…_ ” I hear the clicking sound of a smartphone camera going off.

“Wait, how far away from this Alpha are you?” I ask. “I hope they didn’t just hear that.”

“ _What the hell?_ ” Scott whispers. “ _There’s two of them?_ ”

“Just send me the damn picture and get out of there already!” I yell.

On the other end of the line, I hear a faint growling. Whoops, my bad. I shouldn’t have yelled like that. I think I just blew my pack’s cover. I mentally curse myself. If my hands weren’t full, I’d smack my forehead right now for good measure.

“ _Shit, they’re onto us! Run!_ ” Scott yells. The sound of teen wolves running scared, digitized by the cheap speakers on my phone, filters into my ears.

“Get to Deaton’s office!” I bark into the phone. “You’ll be safe there!” I give Scott just enough time to acknowledge my order before hanging up - just as the picture he sent me arrives. Unlike Scott, who has the latest trendy phone like all good little teenagers, I have a bare-bones dumb-phone, mostly because I have no real use for smartphones anyway. Therefore, his picture-text takes forever for my phone to process, and even longer to open.

But open it does, allowing me to get a look at the Alphas. At first, I think, _Holy shit, am I seeing double?_ But then I realize the two muscle-bound, blandly-handsome guys in the picture are identical twins. One of them is turned a little away from the camera, but the other is facing it (possibly unintentionally), and so most of his face is obscured by the red lens flare of his werewolf eyes. But I can see enough of his face to confirm my suspicion about the identical-twin thing.

“So it’s true that werewolves can’t take a photo properly, innit?” Skylar asks. I jump, realizing she’s managed to get behind me without me noticing. “Twins, are they? I bet they can meld their bodies together, too. I’ve heard of some case of twin wolves doin’ that somewhere in...oh well, it’s not important.”

“Everyone, follow me,” I say. “We’re gonna go to Deaton’s office and meet the others.” I grab the keys to my car. “Stiles, can I trust you to drive this thing?”

“More than you can trust me to aim a stake at this one,” he says, jerking his thumb at Skylar. “It’s against my code to stick things in hot girls. Unless it’s my-”

“We don’t wanna hear it,” I say, slamming the door open to further interrupt Stiles’ increasingly inappropriate rambling. “After you, my dear,” I say to Skylar with a flourish in the direction of the door.

“Ooh, such a gentleman,” Skylar says mockingly. “Is this gonna be a routine with you? I should warn you, the last bloke who tried to be all chivalrous with me, I bit him and drained him of three pints.”

“I dare you to try that on me,” I snark back. “I’ll heal too fast for you to kill me that way.”

“Sure you will.”

“You’d have to have Scott help you with that,” Stiles says as I toss him the keys.

“But Scott’s more about taking the pain, not healing,” I say. When we get to my Chevy Tahoe, I open the door for Skylar once again. She flashes her fangs at me, but doesn’t follow through on her biting threat. Instead, she sits in the second-row seat and buckles up while I come around to the other side and point the stake at her again.

Stiles has a bit of trouble driving my car, because it’s so much bigger and more unwieldy than his Jeep. But, to my eternal surprise, he manages to get it to Deaton’s parking lot in one piece.

It doesn’t stay that way for long, though. Because we’re soon met by the two Alpha twins, their eyes blazing red, wolf faces already coming out. This is exactly why I decided to meet at Deaton’s - because I didn’t want the pack to lead these bozos to my front door. I’ve had enough trouble dealing with one less-than-wanted guest today.

“Get inside!” I shout to Stiles and Skylar as the twins approach the back of my car. They then proceed to take off their shirts - show-offs - and then do something really disturbing. Their bodies join together. Clearly, I don’t mean that in a “knowing thee Biblically” sense. They literally become one huge super-wolf. Holy shit, but Skylar was right. Although I don’t think I understand how they’re still wearing pants - and then, with a crash, the super-wolf punches through the back windshield, shattering it.

“Go!” I yell at the others, using my free hand to push Skylar out the door that much faster. Then I pull open the driver’s door and drag Stiles out by his arm before moving him in front of me, putting myself between him and Skylar and the angry super-wolf.


	4. All Around Me Are Familiar Faces

****STILES*****

It may not be much of a secret that I envy Scott and Derek and the others for being werewolves. But today, I’m also reminded that sometimes, being one of the few humans (well, only human now, with Allison having turned) in our little circle of friends can have its perks.

Like being the only one able to open the waist-high gate leading behind Deaton’s desk. Derek and Skylar can’t touch it because it’s made of mountain ash, which leaves it up to me. Finally, something useful for me to do.

“Get in!” Derek yells, pointing at the door to the exam room as soon as we’re all behind the front desk.

We don’t get in there a second too soon. Just as Skylar and I run through that door, the glass front door is broken open by the super-sized wolf. Derek growls at him - or is it “them?” Considering there’s two people in that one body, I really have no idea what’s the proper pronoun to use here.

As we get into the exam room, I look around wildly, half-expecting to spot Scott and Allison. But they’re not here. Where they are, I have no idea. I want to call them up and ask, but right now I’m a little busy trying to help Derek and Skylar barricade the door. Here, though, is a moment when being human sucks. Derek and Skylar, being supernaturally enhanced, don’t have to make as much of an effort to move Deaton’s box of weapons in front of the door. If not for them doing a huge chunk of the work, I probably wouldn’t be able to push it more than an inch. At best.

The super-wolf starts pounding on the door, but the box doesn’t budge. It shakes like there’s a constant small earthquake going on, but otherwise stays firmly in place. Which seems like a good sign - except that’s not the only way into the room. Skylar follows my line of sight to the back door and whispers, “How long until those two split up and try to pincer us?”

“Unless they got some brains to balance out their way-too-much brawn,” I say, gesturing at the box as it continues to shake with the force of the super-wolf’s attacks, “I bet it’ll be a long time before they think of that.”

The box shakes even more violently, prompting Derek to slam his body against it to help keep it in place. “I don’t wanna take a chance on that,” Derek says. “We need to get out of here, ASAP.” He looks around and then asks, “Where’s the key to this thing? We need more weapons.”

“Scott knows where it is,” I say, racking my brains and trying to remember where he first got it. “Wait a minute...dammit, he’s got the key. Should I call him?”

“No, I’ll handle this,” Skylar says. She takes a pin out of her hair and starts picking the lock with it.

“Do we wanna know where you learned to pick locks?” I ask.

“Let’s just say it involves being locked in a coffin and leave it at that,” Skylar says, furiously working on the lock. “And don’t you dare start making coffin jokes.”

“Wasn’t gonna start making coffin jokes,” I say. “There’s a time and a place for lame-ass puns, and this isn’t it!”

“Finally, someone’s abandoning their naturally sarcastic instincts!” Derek says, shoving the box closer to the door with his back. “Sorry,” he adds to Skylar, whose lock-picking has just been rudely interrupted by the movement of the box.

Skylar spares a moment to blow some hair out of her face, then gnashes her teeth at Derek - her fangs are visible for a split second - before resuming her attack on the lock.

“I wouldn’t have thought you’d ever be happy for someone abandoning their instincts,” I say to Derek. He’s too focused on holding the box in place to say anything, but he does let out a low, menacing growl. The super-wolf outside must hear it and not like it, because it starts slamming on the door even harder, as if that were even possible. How the door’s hinges haven’t broken off by now, I have no idea.

Skylar then pops the lock open, allowing me to look into the box with her. The weapons have all fallen out of place, but I can pick out a few good ones that she and Derek can use - for example, a silver knife, and a gun with silver bullets attached. I’ve not heard too much about whether or not werewolves are truly vulnerable to silver, but Skylar and Derek both say that they are.

“It’s not as bad as mountain ash, or wolfsbane,” Derek says. “So there’s not really as much of a big deal to be made about it. But if you’re a werewolf, you definitely don’t want silver getting into your bloodstream.”

He takes the knife - Skylar insists on getting the gun, claiming that she’s a real sharpshooter. “Hopefully we’ll get out of this mess before you gotta prove it to us,” I say as I grab the ash stake. There’s no use in me being unarmed.

“Yeah, hopef-” Skylar begins. Then she and Derek both stiffen and turn to look at the back door. A split second later, I see the doorknob rattling, then the door starting to open. Cursing under my breath, I raise my stake, ready to charge whatever’s coming in-

“Whoa, dude, stop!” It’s Scott, with Allison right behind him. He’s got his hands in the air, and his wolf face on - but that vanishes pretty quickly when he sees me lower the stake. “What’s going on?” he asks.

“You came at just the right time,” I say, jerking my thumb at the still-shuddering door. “Those twins you saw at Derek’s old place? That’s them. Or, more accurately, _him._ ”

“What do you mean?” Allison asks, blinking in confusion.

“I’d open the door to show you, but then he’d attack us,” Derek says. “And I don’t think our numbers advantage is gonna hold very long against this big guy.”

To everyone’s surprise, the door stops shaking. “That’ll be Jackson and Isaac,” Scott says. “We tried to come in through the front at first, but then we saw the big guy, and they volunteered to distract him while we went in the back to get you guys.”

“Actually,” Allison says, “it was more like Jackson volunteered, and dragged Isaac along with him.”

“I’m guessing none of you thought to bring a car?” I ask. “‘Cause Derek’s...I’m not sure it’s even drivable anymore, after the beating these guys did to it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Derek says. “Of course it’s drivable.” He climbs onto the box and presses his ear to the door. “And it sounds like there’s nobody there. Think we can risk it?”

The back door opens, and Isaac runs in, panting and dripping with sweat. “Hey, guys,” he says with an awkward wave. “I’d run if I were you - there’s an angry Alpha on my ass.”

He doesn’t need to tell us twice. Derek and Scott move the box away from the door (Skylar wants to help, but when Scott gently pushes her aside, she accepts it without protest). Then I jump through it and hold the gate open for the others. From there, we race up to the remains of Derek’s SUV. All the windows are shattered, and most of the side panels have been severely dented. At least one door won’t even open.

“Drivable, huh?” I say, demonstrating how the driver’s-side rear door is now completely stuck. “Sure. Let’s go with that.”

“Not now, Stiles,” Derek grumbles. He also struggles a bit with the driver’s door, but eventually pulls that open as well. “Keys! Stiles, give me the keys!”

“He’s coming!” Skylar yells, raising her gun and pointing it at the front door. Luckily, the Alpha - he’s split off from his twin, so he’s just standing there all on his own like a werewolf calendar model - can’t get through the mountain ash gate without burning his hand on contact.

Unluckily, he’s smart enough to know to just run back around through the back door.

I toss Derek the keys, and he tries to start the car. As I expect, though, the engine does nothing more than make a few rough noises, completely refusing to turn over.

“There’s no time for that!” Isaac yells. “He’s coming around the other side!”

“Jesus, you think?” I say.

“This way!” Allison yells, pointing up the street.

We start running, but I’m not sure where we’re supposed to be going. The only place in that direction that I can think of is the old Hale house. Although now that the twin Alphas have at least temporarily abandoned it, we could probably hole up there and have a standoff against them. Yeah, that’s totally the best way to spend a nice summer day.

“Hey, guys, wait up!” Jackson runs out from behind Deaton’s building to join us. He’s also being followed by an Alpha twin. The twins join each other, standing side by side, then put their arms over each other’s shoulders, clearly about to become the super-wolf again.

Except they’re stopped by another creature who runs up behind them and scratches them both on their exposed backs. At first, I think our savior is another werewolf, but then I see his face. He’s not a wolf - his features don’t look like those of Scott and Derek when they’re shifted. They actually look a little more feline. Especially with the little pointed tufts of fur on his ears. They make him look oddly cute - until he hisses at them, catlike, then starts brandishing his razor-sharp claws in the twins’ faces.

They get the message and bolt before he can turn their pretty-boy features into so much meatloaf.

Then the were-cat, or whatever he is, turns around and shifts back to human. He looks around at us all. Then, when he sees Skylar, he raises his thick eyebrows and says, in a very similar accent to hers, “You’re welcome, sister.”

“We could have taken care of this without you, Hunter,” Skylar says acidly. “And what the hell are you doing here anyway?”

“Same as you, of course,” Hunter says, brushing imaginary dust off his shoulder. “I’m here to investigate the bloody Alpha Pack.”

“You’re underage, and you’re not even in the coven,” Skylar says. “Why would they send you to do my job?”

Hunter snickers. “Okay, consider my bluff called. I was bored of being shut up in my room all day long, so I ran off. Shoot me.” He looks around to everyone else. “How do you do, ladies and blokes? I’m Hunter Renard. As you no doubt saw before, I’m a werelynx - and my sister’s a vampire. Don’t ask. Also, I’m seventeen and single - not a combination I ever wanted to be, but there you go.” I see him check out several of the werewolves - most noticeably, Allison and Jackson. He barely gives me a second glance, though. What, I don’t fall on his radar? I’m offended.

“Can I ask why the hell we’re all standing around out here in broad daylight?” I ask.

“Good point,” Hunter says. “Can’t let my dear sweet sister get sizzled, can we? I do have a place where we can all hole up.”

Derek purses his lips. “Wherever it is, let’s just get there before those goddamn twins come back.”

Hunter claps his hands. “Awesome!” he says in an atrocious American accent. “Right this way, everybody.” He walks back towards Deaton’s office, then stops. “Hold on, I have to get my bearings...all right, this way.” He keeps on going in that same direction.

“Why are we following the twins?” Scott asks.

“I assure you, it’s merely a coincidence,” Hunter says. “And I’m sure they can’t read minds like I can, so they have no idea we’re coming this way too.”

“You can read minds?” Jackson asks.

 _If you can hear this,_ I think, _prepare to have your brain assaulted._ I imagine my brain is a pair of iPod speakers cranked up to maximum volume while playing the loud guitar intro to Jack White’s “Sixteen Saltines.”

“Ouch,” Hunter says, calmly putting his hands over his ears. “No need to be so rude, Stiles.”

“How do you know my name?”

“Do I really have to say it? Ah, here we are,” Hunter says, stopping in front of a building looming up close. It’s the warehouse where Derek lives now.

Derek knits his eyebrows at Hunter. “Okay, you know where I live. Good for you. But I never said you could stay here, did I?”

“You didn’t,” Hunter says. “She did.” He points to his sister.

“I’d attack you right now if I could,” Skylar hisses. “But I have to avoid the bloody sun.”

Hunter opens the door. “I’ve told you a thousand times, Sky - let yourself turn into a werelynx. Or whatever were-thing you are. I bet you’d be a wererabbit. All cute and cuddly and fluffy and-”

“How’s this for a wererabbit?” Skylar jumps on Hunter, taking him by surprise and making him apparently forget he’s half a foot taller and maybe seventy pounds heavier. Either that, or he just wants to fall to the ground and take her down with him.

Finally, he wriggles out of her grasp - she’s forced to retreat to the nearest spot of shade as her exposed hands quickly start to turn red - and making a flourishing gesture at the open door. “Come on in,” he says, standing back to let us pass.


	5. Play The Guitar On The MTV

*****DEREK*****

Could this werelynx kid be any more presumptuous? Here he is, inviting everyone and their sister - almost literally - into my loft. My living space. Who gave him the right to... _okay, Derek,_ I think, kneading my forehead. _Calm down. No need to start snapping necks and rolling heads just yet. Hunter and Skylar aren’t that evil. Yet._

As soon as we’re all safely inside the loft, I round on the two Brits - Skylar, who has to keep her hood up and her back turned to avoid the sun streaming through the large window on the other end of the room; and Hunter, who’s leaning casually against the wall, unwrapping a Tootsie Pop and sticking it in his mouth, holding it like a cigarette the whole time.

“All right, you guys need to explain yourselves,” I say, looking between Skylar and Hunter.

“Gee, it’s a long story,” Hunter says sweetly. He pauses to lick the blood-red lollipop as long as possibly. “Where would you like to start, O Alpha Of The Pack?”

“First, I’d like to know how you can be a werelynx and a vampire and still be siblings,” I say. I look around and see Scott, Stiles, and Allison leaning forward attentively, waiting for the answer just like me.

“I’m adopted,” Hunter says.

“No, you’re not,” says Isaac. “You guys have the same-shaped ears, same eye color. There’s no way you’re not related.”

“Then where’d I get my eyebrows from?” Hunter asks, raising his huge, bushy ones. “Her mum and dad don’t have them, and-”

Skylar holds up her hand. “Enough,” she grumbles. “Hunt, you need to learn when to stop running with your jokes, even when they fall flat.”

“ _‘_ _I get knocked down, but I get up again!_ _’_ ” Hunter sings. “ _‘_ _You’re never gonna keep me down! I get knocked-_ _’_ ”

“Cut it out!” I yell, baring my fangs for a split second. “You’re already almost as bad as Stiles.”

“Don’t act like you don’t like that song,” Stiles says, grinning.

I spare a moment to glare at him instead of Hunter. “Stiles, you weren’t even born yet when that song came out. And it was friggin’ everywhere. You have no idea.”

“I think I can guess, though,” Stiles says, crossing his arms. “We do still have viral hits these days. Ever heard of ‘Gangnam Style?’ ‘Do the Harlem Shake?’” He says that one in a deep voice, then puts on a higher, funny-accented voice for his next title drop: “‘What Does The Fox Say?’”

I shake my head. “Stiles, believe it or not, I do have internet access, so I know a thing or two about viral videos. And let me tell you this - they’re all annoying as shit. That’s the most important thing to learn.”

“Even ‘Gangnam Style?’” Stiles asks, pouting.

“I think ‘Gentleman’ is better,” Jackson says. “But that’s just me.”

“It’s easier to do the ‘Gentleman’ dance anyway,” Hunter says. “ _‘_ _I’m a mother-father gentleman!_ _’_ ”

“What did you just say?” I ask. Then I roll my eyes as, rather than answer my question, Hunter starts doing a weird-ass dance, swaying his hips from side to side and holding his chin in one hand. Then he raises his hands in the air, his elbows bent at roughly ninety-degree angles, repeating the not-really-curse from before.

“Is it out of your bloody system yet?” Skylar asks, shooting her own glare at Hunter.

“ _‘_ _I’m a mother'_ \- all right, it’s out of my bloody system,” Hunter says.

Skylar scratches her head under her hood. “Finally. Okay, well, to answer your question, Derek - Hunter and I really are blood siblings. He was born a vampire, but slept with a werewolf girl who then proceeded to turn him into one of them. Sort of.”

“Because the lynx, clearly, is my spirit animal,” Hunter says. I see him briefly shift his ears, allowing the long, pointed tufts of hair to sprout on top.

“And he’s actually the second reason why I’m down here in this town,” Skylar continues, sighing heavily until Hunter reverts back to full human form. “Because he ran away, and I’m supposed to bring him home.”

“But you won’t, will you?” Hunter says. “I can see it in your subconscious, sister. You don’t want me suffering under Mum and Dad’s control any more than I do.”

Skylar turns away from Hunter - as much as she can turn away without getting exposed to the sun, that is.

“Can we save the remanding of the wayward British teen werelynx for after we help Skylar take care of her first order of business?” Hunter asks.

“And that is…?” Scott asks.

Skylar turns again so she can look at us all. “I’m here to find an Alpha Pack that’s been hanging around this town. Hunter said he’s here for the same reason, but of course that’s bloody bullshit.”

“Says you,” Hunter says.

“Sure. Sure. Okay, but the Alpha Pack...I understand those twin werewolves we encountered before were part of it?”

“Possibly,” I say. “They were in my old house, and they’d marked it with their symbol.”

“Yeah, isn’t that the same symbol you’ve got tattooed on your back?” Jackson asks.

“No, it’s not,” I say. “But it’s similar only ‘cause it has the same number-three motif. Mine’s a triskelion, not that triple-triangle spiral. Whatever it’s called.”

“A triskelion, you say?” Skylar asks. “Could we see it?”

I stare at her in surprise. “Uh…”

“I mean, i-if you don’t mind, that is,” Skylar says, holding up her hands.

I turn around, thankful that none of the others can see how pissed off I must look right now. I’ve been trying to make it a habit of actually wearing a shirt when others are around, but now I guess I’ll have to break it.

As I pull up the back of my shirt, I hear Hunter wolf-whistling (haha, how ironic) behind me. I clench my teeth and fists, feeling uncannily (and uncomfortably) reminded of the time Stiles had me change shirts in front of his friend Danny. Another “Cousin Miguel” moment for the list.

“Interesting,” Skylar says. “Wait...aren’t spirals supposed to be a symbol of revenge or something?”

“That’s usually just a spiral by itself,” I say, pulling my shirt down again. “This triskelion, it’s a family thing. Otherwise, I’d look pretty foolish wearing that on my back for the rest of my life.”

“Ever heard of laser ink removal?” Stiles quips. Trust him to go there.

I shake my head at him. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”

“You big baby,” Stiles teases, sticking his tongue out at me.

I decide not to engage him any further on stuff he doesn’t know about. If I remember correctly, he almost passed out at the sight of my blood that time Kate Argent shot me with a wolfsbane-laced bullet. If he knew that my tattoo wasn’t made by ink, but rather by a blazing hot blowtorch applied to my skin...just the thought of that agony might be enough to make him faint for sure.

“So, we know why Skylar’s here,” I say. “What about her brother?”

Hunter turns to me, looking pretty butthurt. “I do have a name, you know.”

“We know that,” I say. “But what are you doing here? Without permission, from the sound of it.”

“I don’t need permission to meet my online date,” Hunter says, crossing his arms.

“Oh, so that’s why you’re here,” Skylar says. “And I thought you were just here to scope out the local wildlife.”

“Nah, that’s your job,” Hunter laughs. “And obviously, you’re not gonna tell our parents about this either. They probably know already anyway - I’m sure they’ve got a hacker or two on their payroll to call in and crack my laptop on command.”

“Who says I won’t?” Skylar asks.

“Your thoughts says,” Hunter says. “Don’t try to hide them from me.”

“Heaven help whoever your date is,” Stiles says. “If this is what they’re gonna have to put up with…”

“Oi! Don’t act like you wouldn’t creep out your first date by just being yourself.” Hunter sneers at Stiles for a moment. “That’s my speciality - being myself, and if the date goes badly, well, I know that person isn’t the right one for me.”

“Exactly how many people have you tried that strategy with?” Skylar asks suspiciously.

“Two,” Hunter says.

“Oh yeah, that werewolf girl and her brother,” Skylar says.

Hunter looks shocked at this. “The girl, yes, but not her brother,” he says hastily. “He was only twelve! And besides, he looked like that baby-faced dude from One Direction.”

Stiles snaps his fingers. “What is it?” Scott asks.

“I was trying to remember the name of that boy band earlier,” Stiles says. “Don’t ask why - I don’t even know myself. But thanks anyway, dude,” he says to Hunter.

Hunter turns to Stiles and nods pleasantly. “You’re welcome.” He then turns back to Skylar and says, “The other one - you remember him, right? The closeted swimmer?”

“He wasn’t closeted,” Skylar says. “It was an open secret.”

I clap my hands to get the siblings’ attention. “Hunter, maybe you should go out and find your date, then?”

“Are you just trying to get me out of your hair?” he asks, tilting his head. “That doesn’t sound like such a good idea. Not with those monstrous Alphas running around.”

“Oh, please,” Skylar hisses, adjusting her position so she can avoid the changing angle of the sun. “Like you’ll let a measly pair of merged twin Alphas stop you from having some lovely little sexy-time.”

“I’m not gonna have sex today!” Hunter gasps, looking scandalized. “Do you really think I believe in sealing the deal on the first date? Hell no!”

“Well, this time you’re meeting someone you’ve already chatted with online,” Skylar says.

“So, which poor unfortunate soul is it?” I ask. “Just so we know who else we might need to protect.”

“Why?” Hunter asks. “It’s not as if the Alpha Pack cares about me.”

“Considering you were able to scare them off just by doing that little kitty-hiss in their faces,” I say, “they’re gonna start caring about you soon enough.”

Hunter actually pales a bit upon hearing this. “Oh really?” he asks, trying to keep up at least some of his bravado.

“Yeah, really.”

“Okay,” Hunter says, wringing his hands. “Um...well, I’m not sure how to pronounce his last name - it’s something long and foreign - but he’s the same age as some of you guys.” He gestures to Scott, Allison, Stiles, and Isaac. Jackson, somehow, doesn’t get gestured to - but that’s probably because he could pass for something closer to my age if he wanted to.

“Don’t tell me it’s Danny,” Stiles says.

“That’s him,” Hunter says, snapping his fingers. “He’s Samoan or Hawaiian or some other Pacific Islander - that’s why I’m not so sure about his last name.”

“Mahealani,” Jackson says.

“Yeah, thanks,” Hunter says, grinning at Jackson. “So you guys know him after all.”

“He’s good with computers,” Allison says. “He’s helped our people out with tech-related issues a bunch of times.”

Hunter’s eyes gleam with mischief. “Well, bloody hell. Hopefully, Mum and Dad won’t ever find out about that. They’d probably want to hire him as their resident hacker. Depending on how skilled he is, of course. And how much it would take to pay him to betray me.”

“You give our parents such a bad name in front of these strangers,” Skylar says.

“They deserve it for not supporting my dreams and desires,” Hunter says. “And I’m not just talking about finding a good partner regardless of gender. I’m talking about me wanting to not be a vampire-”

“Which you no longer are-”

“Or wanting to do like in that old song and ‘play the guitar on the MTV,’” Hunter adds, followed by a five-second air-guitar routine.

I try not to laugh - not only at his ridiculous antics, but also at his reference to an old favorite song of my childhood. I wonder, however, if he remembers that the same song talks about “that little faggot with the earring and the makeup.” Not that that rude stereotype describes Hunter, but I’m sure that he’d be at least somewhat offended by it anyway. Even if it’s meant to be sung in the character of a rough-hewn New York hardware-store employee.

“And where were you gonna meet Danny?” I ask.

“Where all the good little teenagers in this town hang out,” Hunter says. “Or so I’ve heard.”

“The Jungle?” Stiles laughs.

“What? Erm, no. We’re gonna go to the cinema to see _Age of Ultron._ ”

“Then we’re all gonna go there too,” I say. “Just in case.”

“Serve a little werewolf guard duty, huh?” Isaac asks.

“I think I can handle that,” Scott says. “Heh, guess that means we’ll get to see the movie after all, huh, Stiles?”

“If I get to come along for the ride, that is,” Stiles says grumpily.

“Why not?” I say. “Just ‘cause you’re human doesn’t mean we can’t use your help.”

Stiles smiles deviously at me. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I was just fishing for compliments there.”

Allison, however, doesn’t look quite so happy or enthusiastic. And I can easily figure out why. I walk up to her and take her hand, half-expecting Scott to get all freakishly possessive - oh, but they broke up not too long ago. Which might explain why he doesn’t react badly to my gesture. Or perhaps he knows as well as I do that it’s just a comforting gesture. Totally innocent.

“I promise,” I say, looking Allison in the eye, “as soon as this little date of theirs is over, we’ll get back to looking for the Alpha twins. We haven’t forgotten your problem.”

“No,” Scott says. “These intrusive Brits just made us, um, reprioritize.”

“I’ll thank you not to insult us,” Skylar says pointedly.

“And I’ll thank you to direct us to the cinema,” Hunter says. “I’ve actually not had too many trips to an American one, so I can never wait to stuff my face with greasy popcorn and cold soda pop. Or however you say it around here.”

“We don’t say ‘pop,’” I say. “Not in California.”

“Good to know,” Hunter says. “Well, maybe not so much for Sky, ‘cause she can’t stay here long term. But for me...oh well. Onward and downward, my good men! And women,” he amends, looking at Allison and Skylar.

I look around at the others, then assume my leadership role once again. “You heard the man,” I say. “To the cinema.” I say the last word in an imitation of Hunter’s accent, complete with adding an extra “r” sound at the end.

“That’s not how I’d say it,” Hunter says, “but you did well anyway.”

Without another word, I lead the way out of the loft.


	6. The Spirit's On Me Like A Live Wire

*****STILES*****

I didn't think I'd get to see _Age of Ultron_ today. Now, I'm about to see it with everyone else - and I feel a pretty strong sense of foreboding. Those Alpha twins are still out there, and when we're all in a dark, crowded movie theater, it's all too likely that they'll be taking advantage of that to ambush us. Maybe even with reinforcements - didn't Derek say something about an entire pack of Alphas? And how does that work? Where's the hierarchy in such a system?And, more importantly, in the event of an ambush, how would I defend myself? It's not like I can smuggle a gun or an aluminum baseball bat into the theater. Or any other kind of weapon, really.

At the theater, I look through the glass front door and gaze around the lobby. Danny is nowhere to be seen, so he must not be here yet. While we all get our tickets, Hunter says he'll stay outside and wait for his date.

"Are you sure?" Skylar asks, sliding ten dollars into the ticket booth. Derek had initially wondered about how she'd be able to get into the building - vampires are, literally, unable to enter new buildings uninvited. However, she pointed out the sign on the front door that reads, "Come in, we're OPEN." I'm not sure why a movie theater has that sign - I've never seen that happen before. Either way, this awfully convenient stroke of luck is good for us. Or, more accurately, her.

"Don't worry," Hunter says glibly, leaning against the wall next to a _Tomorrowland_ poster. "I can defend myself quite ably if need be."

"Which is more than I can say for myself," I mutter under my breath.

"And besides," Hunter adds as I pay for my own ticket, "it'll look less suspicious, don't you think? I mean, if Danny were to come up here and see me surrounded by all his friends, he might think something's up."

"Most of us aren't really his friends," I say. "Except Jackson. Scott, Isaac, and I are just his teammates."

"Your Facebook profiles suggest otherwise," Hunter chuckles.

"And something _is_ up," I add, ignoring his little joke. "There's a bunch of...you know what, never mind. I'm sure you can read it all in my mind anyway."

"I can, actually," Hunter says. "Tell Allison I wish her the best of luck in reversing her turning, okay?"

"You're getting really creepy there, dude."

"I know," Hunter says, waving jauntily as I walk into the theater. I'm the last one in line for snacks, which everyone is getting except Allison and Isaac (because they're too nervous about this whole thing to eat too much - but Scott agrees to share some of his large tub of popcorn with the both of them.) By the time we've all got our popcorn and sodas, however, I can turn around and see Hunter greeting Danny outside the door with a nice big hug, as if they're old friends.

I watch the two of them talk for a minute or so outside, before I end up having to take my turn at the snack counter. Just as well, because as I place my order, I hear the door open behind me, and it would kind of wreck Hunter's little plan if I were caught staring at him and Danny. But then, I don't think Hunter expected Danny to see all of us at the movies today either.

To his credit, though, Hunter manages to do a very convincing job of pretending he's never met any of us before. Apparently, even without the aid of mind-reading powers, he already knew who some of us were, because Danny had talked about some of us when he'd chatted with him online. But until today, he'd never had any faces to put with the names of Jackson, Scott, Isaac, and myself. Basically, Danny's teammates were the only ones he'd talked about.

"The pleasure is mine, boys," Hunter says after shaking hands all around. Behind Danny's back, however, he winks at me. Such an actor. Not to mention a jokester. Hey...being the jokester is _my_ job! Now I'm starting to wonder if that means Danny really would consider me his type. But, of course, I'm still holding out for Lydia. Foolishly, I know. Don't remind me.

"Hey, I didn't know Allison found a new boyfriend already," Danny says to Scott.

"What?" Scott looks over at Allison, who's hanging around a little closer to Isaac. "Oh, him? Huh. I didn't know that either."

"I'm sure you'll find another girl eventually," Danny says. He then turns to Hunter and says, "I dunno about you, Hunt, but I'm dying for popcorn."

"I love a boy with a great appetite," Hunter says, grinning.

 _In more ways than one,_ I think to myself, almost making myself laugh as a result. See, I still got it! I can still make dumbass jokes!

While we pile into our seats, I start to wonder if Danny's assumption about Allison holds any grain of truth. Me, I'm inclined to not think so. After all, that would be silly, I'd think, for her to trade one werewolf for another. I'm sure her dear werewolf-hunting daddy would not approve. But at least he couldn't possibly be less supportive than her mom. I still can't believe that crazy old bitch actually tried to kill Scott for sleeping with Allison. Let me tell you, if there was ever any proof of the existence of karma, it lies in the fact that Mrs. Argent got bitten by Derek and died soon afterwards. Most likely by suicide, maybe even of the assisted variety.

Two and a half hours go by, and I'm sure we all enjoyed the movie. But if the others were anything like me, we were mostly feeling edgy (as in, "edge of our seats") not because of the on-screen action (amazing as it was, thanks to Joss Friggin' Whedon), but because of - yep, our fear that the Alpha twins or someone else just as bad would try and walk in on us, ruining this mind-boggling cinematic experience. Which would, quite frankly, suck donkey balls.

But the movie runs all the way through almost without interruption - the only exception being the fact that the projectionist has to stop and restart it from the beginning after about five minutes. I'd been wondering why the image was so blurry, juddery, and double-vision-y. Turns out they were accidentally playing the 3D version. Wait, since when does Beacon Hills' tiny small-town theater play 3D movies? Well, it's a Marvel movie, after all. It deserves to be shown in all its glory.

My only problem - a character I really came to like after loving to hate at first ended up getting killed off. And no, it wasn't Ultron. But (serious spoiler alert) thankfully, he died too. Or did he? You never know what those silly Marvel writers and producers are going to pull out of their collective ass next. I mean, they're rebooting Spider-Man _again,_ for crying out loud. Do we need another reboot? Do we want another reboot? Hell to the no on both counts. (Of course, that could just be me, because I'm pretty sure I'm the only one among us who likes the reboots. Scott, for instance, prefers the originals with Tobey Maguire. But then again, he was introduced to Spider-Man through those movies, so I don't blame him.)

When we leave the theater, we do so in a staggered fashion, to make it look like we don't all have the same place to go next. The less Danny knows about what goes on with us, the better. He already came a little too close for comfort the night Jackson, in kanima form, ravaged the Jungle while he was in the place, clubbing with seemingly every other young, party-hearty gay dude in Beacon County. Not to mention me and Scott, who were forced to blend in as best we could while searching for Jackson, despite being underage and not really into that scene. We did fool at least one other dude - who actually bought Scott a drink - but not my dad, who completely ignored my bullshit excuse-slash-coming-out about just, you know, clubbing. At the club.

Eventually, though, we all slowly make our way to Derek's loft once again. Scott and I are first to arrive after Derek himself, followed by Allison and Skylar. Next up, Isaac and Jackson. The former cracks a joke about how he's going to be having nightmares about James Spader for the rest of his life, and that helps diffuse the tension somewhat.

"I dunno about you," I respond, not wanting to be outdone, "but I'd be more terrified of Paul Bettany. Vision is not someone you wanna see go bad, not if he can handle Mjölnir so effortlessly."

Someone knocks on the door. "Is that Hunter?" Skylar asks, looking up and gazing intently at the door as if expecting to see through it.

Derek sniffs the air. "It doesn't smell like him. Or like any other boy, for that matter."

"You can tell a person's gender by smell?" Skylar asks, looking amazed.

"Can't you?" Derek asks, completely deadpan, before walking over to the door. I watch Skylar's expression change from a frown to a smile as his joke slowly dawns on her, and then she covers her mouth with both hands so we can't hear her laughing.

"It's okay," Derek says finally before opening the door. "She's a friend."

I gape at the person who's just walked in. "Lydia?"

She looks around the mostly-bare loft, tucking her strawberry-blonde hair behind her ear. "So where's the party?" she asks. I'm sure she's just kidding - right?

"How'd you get here?" Scott asks.

"Duh," Lydia says, sidling over to Jackson and taking his hand. "I followed this guy. I figured something really crazy was happening - I got a vibe in my head, for some reason."

"Uh...that's not good," I say. "That's really not good. If you got a vibe - like, a banshee vibe-"

"No, no, no," Lydia says, waving her free hand. "No banshee vibes. No deaths."

"You're a banshee?" Skylar asks, stepping into a more shaded part of the room so she can take her hood off.

"I didn't pick it," Lydia says. "And you're a...uh...okay, I give up. What are you? A were-fox or something?"

"You mean a kitsune? No, that's not what I am. I'm not a were-anything. I'm a vampire."

Now it's Lydia's turn to gape. "Shut up!"

"I didn't know you liked vampires," Jackson says, looking at her in disbelief.

"If I'd have known, I would have found one and gotten turned into one a long time ago," I say.

"No you wouldn't," Skylar says, flashing her fangs for a moment as she delivers me a dangerous grin. "Cheeky little bastard. I'm Skylar, by the way. Skylar Renard." Lydia introduces herself as well, and then our final guest shows up at last. "And that, shockingly enough, is my brother, Hunter," Skylar says. "He's a werelynx."

"Which is a right sight better than being a shut-in during the day so you don't get blistered by the bloody sun," Hunter says. He moves over to Lydia, pulls her away from Jackson, and kisses her on both cheeks, French-style.

"Oh come on," Lydia says after Hunter finishes with his fancy greeting. I look over at Jackson, who's not too disturbed by this - then again, I think he's gotten used to me talking about my crush on Lydia, so he's learned to take it in stride. And as for Hunter, the fact that he's currently not man seeking woman probably helps. "Seriously," Lydia adds, "am I the only one here who thinks vampires are cool?"

"Maybe you are," Hunter says.

"So..." Lydia drawls. "What brings a vampire and a werelynx to Beacon Hills? Please tell me there's not gonna be another insane and dangerous supernatural enemy for us to take on."

"They're already here," Allison says. She blinks a couple of times, and her eyes flash gold for a second.

Lydia gasps, taken aback. "Oh my God. Allison, how...?"

Before her question can be answered, however, the one and only light still on overhead cuts out. With nobody touching the switch.

"Are they here?" I ask, automatically looking around for some weapon I can use. That gun. A baseball bat. Anything. Finally, I spot something promising - huge brass knuckles sitting on a metal cabinet on the far side of the room. I run over to them and try them on - but of course they're Derek-sized, so my hands are way too small for them.

However, when I open the cabinet to put the brass knuckles away, I see something even better - a handheld Taser. I press the button, and to my satisfaction, the device sparks with electricity. I then stand near the door, expecting a crazed, mad-as-hell super-wolf to come charging in. The Taser is armed and ready in my hand, and as soon as the door is violently forced open, I jump out, ready to strike...

...except there's no super-wolf. Instead, it's the two Alpha Twins, still in separate bodies. I at least manage to shock one, sending him to the ground after three full seconds of contact with what has to be at least five digits' worth of voltage.

Unfortunately, the other one sees me coming when I try and turn the Taser on him next. He grabs my arm and holds it out in front of me, then starts to slowly twist it like he's about to break it.

And being a defenseless, 147-pound weakling compared with the other werewolves in the room, I think it's safe to say my skinny white ass is hereby grass.


	7. I Love It When You Come Over To My House

*****DEREK*****

The first rule of my pack is, you don't talk about my pack.

The second rule of my pack is, you don't talk about my pack.

And the third rule, which almost goes without saying, is that you don't fuck with my pack. Period.

I bare my fangs and flash my eyes at the twins. One of them backs off right away, instinctively. The other, the one holding Stiles and about to break his arm, barely flinches. I concentrate my efforts on this one, because the last thing I want to see is Stiles - or anyone else, for that matter - getting hurt on my watch. He doesn't back off as quickly as his brother, but eventually he does when I get within easy biting range. Yeah, I know, biting him would be redundant, but that doesn't mean it wouldn't be an effective deterrent.

"Hands off the human," I growl, the sound rumbling from deep inside me. My eyes flick over to Stiles long enough to see him glare at me - but I'll just assume, for now, that it was an expression not of anger, but of pain. He's still holding his arm gingerly in front of himself. I didn't hear anything break or tear, but does that mean there's still some subtle damage? If so, I'll gladly go medieval on the pretty-boy Alpha's ass.

The pretty-boy Alpha in question sneers at me. "What do you care? He's not one of us. But he could be."

"Stiles is off-limits to you," I growl, sneering right back at him. "And the same goes for everyone else in this room."

The Alpha tilts his head back and does a huge, dramatic sniff. "Tell that to the tall brunette chick," he says. "Aiden, you bit her yourself, right?"

"She's much more my type than she is yours," says Aiden - it's nice to have a name to put to the face at last - his own nostrils (not to mention his pupils) dilating as he lopes Allison's way. Automatically, Scott gets in front of her, raring to fight - and, unbelievably, so does Isaac. They look at each other in surprise, their eyes still flashing gold.

"Boys, please," Allison says, pushing past them. "I appreciate the gesture, but I can defend myself."

"See, Ethan?" Aiden snickers. "Definitely more my type. Unlike you, I never did like 'em submissive."

"You know, 'bottom' doesn't necessarily equal 'submissive,'" Ethan says. "And what about you, _brother?_ " He switches to a Scottish accent on that last word, no doubt attempting to imitate Desmond from _Lost._ But his Scottish accent is piss-poor, and the Renards, as genuine Brits, respond by smacking their foreheads in disturbing unison. "What about that one you tried to screw and turn in Hill Valley? Taylor, was it? Yeah, total submissive."

Aiden raises his eyebrows. "Taylor was in Central City, not Hill Valley. Get your facts straight, why don't you?"

Ethan snorts into his hand. "The facts are the only thing either of us can get straight."

"Screw and turn, you say?" Hunter asks out of nowhere. "You mean, like, how I got screwed and turned? Granted, the werewolf I slept with was a girl, but still, same basic principle, right?"

The twins exchange glances and scoff at each other. Then Ethan (I can tell them apart because Ethan has a small beauty mark above his eyebrow, which Aiden lacks) asks, "Dude...what the hell are you doing?"

"Trying to relate to you, of course," Hunter says, grinning rakishly at the twins. "Before the fists, fur, and fangs inevitably start to fly."

"How can you relate to us?" Aiden laughs. "You're not a werewolf, you're a werelynx. How does that work, I wonder? You don't have packs, do you?"

Hunter shakes his head. "Nope. Lynx are usually solitary creatures. I don't even think there's a term for a group of them."

"Lynx are solitary?" Skylar asks. "Well, I guess that explains a lot. Like why you never tried to make friends as a kid. Or why you went looking for love online instead of in person."

"It's an easier lifestyle for me," Hunter says, clicking his tongue. "And hey, Danny's already aware of who and what I am - he's seen pictures of me like this." He grows his ear tufts out. "'Cos seriously, who can resist these babies?"

"I can," Ethan growls. "You're cute, but that doesn't mean I don't wanna bust you up."

"Aww, but why?" Hunter asks. "What did I ever do to you?"

Honestly, I'm not enjoying Hunter's nearly endless chatter either. But as long as he keeps the twins distracted with it, I can stealthily circle around behind them and land a sneak attack. It helps that they're standing almost side by side, so I can easily grab the sides of their heads and knock them together like a pair of coconuts.

As soon as I do that, I yell to everyone else, "Let's get out of here!"

"And go where?" asks Scott as we all make a break for the door.

"Just follow my lead!" I stand back from the door for a while, making sure everyone gets out of the loft safely. Allison and Skylar both look askance at me for doing so, but they're not going to stop me from being a gentleman in the face of danger. It's not like I get too many chances to do that, so let me have my fun, ladies. Please and thank you.

As I close the door behind me (not that it'll stop these bastards for long), the twins are starting to get up again, groaning and rubbing their heads. I did knock them pretty hard, didn't I? But I don't regret it. I direct you again to the third rule of my pack.

Downstairs, I'm about to grab the keys to my car when I remember it's sitting in the parking lot at Deaton's office, having been damaged by the twins in their super-wolf form. Just as well - not everyone would have fit in the Tahoe, anyway. But now it's going to be harder to outrun these twins long enough to get to our eventual destination - the old cabin. I may have left it, and Scott may have reported that it was being squatted in by the twins, but there should still be some weapons left behind there in places too secure for the twins to have discovered them. In other words, the cabin should still have some good old tricks up her metaphorical sleeve. And it'll also take us a while to get there on foot anyway, especially since we have to travel at the speed of Stiles - as the only regular human, he's probably the slowest one among us. Well, maybe Lydia's slower - Stiles looks like he has some athletic prowess and potential, if only he weren't so clumsy.

The other major concern of mine is that we might get spotted running back to the cabin. It's very unusual for supernatural-related threats to rise up in broad daylight like has been happening today with the twins. Somebody in this town has to have seen us fighting with, or running from, the twins by now. I can only hope that nobody calls the sheriff - even if he is Stiles' dad, and especially because he's Stiles' dad. The umbrella of my protective instincts covers a pretty wide range - just about everyone in this town is related to, or friends with, someone in my pack. And by "pack," I don't just mean the Betas I've bitten. I also mean those who've fought alongside me, even if they wouldn't be considered pack members by the usual rules. People like Scott, Stiles, Allison, Lydia...and now Skylar and Hunter too, from the looks of it. Hunter's already proven himself by managing to somehow scare off the twins with his lynx face - I think there may have been some telepathy involved, though. And as for Skylar, she's forced to stay hooded and keep to the shadows. But by doing so, she can easily escape detection for a short time - I don't see her at all until she lashes out, kicking the twins at the knees one by one. Then, for good measure, her foot connects with each of their solar plexuses (or is that "plexi?"), making them double up and hit the ground.

Damn, I have to pay more attention to this girl. She's dangerous. In a great way, too.

Before we get to the cabin, something else comes disturbingly to mind. Because Aiden was the one who bit Allison - and I know he and his brother were telling the truth about that - the only way for her to return to normal would be for her to kill him. Her, and only her.

This is unusual for me - the last time a Beta had the opportunity to kill his undeserving-of-life Alpha, I stole that opportunity from him and became the Alpha myself. I'm sure Scott's more than gotten used to it since then. But somewhere in the back of his mind, he's probably never forgiven me for permanently locking him into his supernatural place in the world. Imagine how he'd feel if Allison, who's had even less time to come into her own as a werewolf, was similarly deprived of the chance to return to human. He'd never trust me again, and I need everyone in my pack to trust me. Otherwise, it's not much of a pack at all, is it?

So, with that in mind, I reach a decision on how to handle the twins. Ethan, for his threats to Stiles, will have to answer to me personally. And Allison can do what she wants with Aiden. Chances are, she won't go so far as to kill him, and nobody's going to force her to do so. Except maybe Aiden himself, and even then, she'd kill him only in self-defense, I would hope.

At the cabin, though, everything immediately starts going to shit when we're confronted by yet another unexpected - and unwanted - surprise guest. He flings the door open seconds before we arrive - I can hear it happen from a hundred yards away - and then ambles out with the sort of swagger reserved for villains or rappers. The fact that he has a cane - he's blind, if his Daredevil-style sunglasses are any further indication - helps.

Ethan and Aiden practically skid to a halt behind us, then run around us so they can talk to this guy more directly. "D-Deucalion?" Ethan asks. The way he trips up when saying the guy's name cannot be good. "What are you doing here? We can take care of this ourselves!"

"Boys, boys, relax," Deucalion says in an English-accented voice. He waves his free hand airily, but tightens his grip on his cane with his other hand. I'm really not liking where this is going, and I almost want to get my pack the hell out of here before we can all get massacred. But instead, I settle for spreading my arms as I get everyone behind me.

"I fully expect you to take matters into your own hands," Deucalion continues, tapping the bottom of his cane against the step he's standing on. He should be careful with that thing - the way he's abusing the old wood, it could give way at any moment. "What I admittedly didn't expect, though, was for you, Aiden, to bite the spawn of my old nemesis."

I turn to Allison, as do Scott and Stiles. We're all on the same wavelength - Allison's hunter parents have crossed swords with this Alpha? I guess I shouldn't be surprised, though. The Argent family has always had a twisted history. Just ask Kate. Or Gerard. Or Victoria - she was only an Argent by marriage, but you have to be unstable to marry into that family. No offense to Allison, of course. She's the only sane one, except maybe her dad.

"Hello, Allison," Deucalion says. "Yes, I know you're here. I can smell so many Betas here, but the smell of a fresh one is unmistakable." I narrow my eyes at him as his nostrils dilate. What a sicko. "Especially when they also have Argent blood. I'm honestly surprised you haven't died yet - wouldn't your parents have made sure you couldn't be turned? Wolfsbane in your hair products, silver in your tea? That sort of thing?"

"Nope," Allison says, her voice barely wavering despite her slight increase in stress. "Still alive and kicking. Sorry to disappoint you."

"Quite the contrary, my dear," says Deucalion. "See, part of the reason why my pack consists of Alphas is because I've learned - by accident, mind - that by killing my own Betas, my own powers increase." He looks down at Aiden. "Unfortunately, Aiden has yet to experience that feeling for himself - other than the time he and his twin killed the rest of their pack, including their previous Alpha."

I expect the twins to look proud of themselves - but they don't. If anything, they look freaked out, and if they can see the same thing coming that I do, I don't blame them.

"The trouble is, both twins have bitten many people in their time in my Alpha pack," Deucalion continues. "I applaud them for using their sexuality to their advantage - and envy them for it too, because that's an advantage I've long since lost. But everyone they've 'screwed and turned,' as they say, has died in the process. But now...now, Aiden can kill his own Beta and take her powers."

"If that's what you've got in mind," I say, my claws coming out, "you've got another thing coming."

Deucalion shakes his head, making a sad clucking noise with his tongue. "Derek...why do you insist on protecting these literal and figurative underdogs? More Betas than you can shake a stick at, a hormonally-crazed werelynx, a vampire, a banshee, and a human? What kind of pack is that? It sounds more like the setup for a joke about walking into a bar."

I can't resist the urge to roll my eyes. "Spare me-"

"Someone, please, rise up and murder the rest, then join me. I'm always looking for power players - to keep under my thumb, of course."

"My pack may be a bunch of misfits," I say firmly, "but they're _my_ misfits. I'm responsible for them, like it or not." I step back a bit, enough to put my arms around Allison and Scott. "I didn't bite either of them, but they're part of my pack anyway. Because unlike you, I care about people."

"Yeah," Stiles says, projecting extra strength into his voice to make up for that which he lacks physically. "He's just got a funny way of showing it."

"I hate to turn your own words against you, but I feel I have no other choice," Deucalion says, his voice growing bored. "'Spare me.' Aiden, you may kill Miss Argent when ready."

I move Allison behind me once again. "Don't even think about it, kid."

"Who says I'm gonna kill her, though?" Aiden asks, crossing his arms in defiance.

"What the hell are you doing?" Ethan asks, looking just as stunned as I feel. "It's you or her!"

Aiden steps closer to Deucalion. "Someone's gotta stand up to you," he says. "I can't believe I'm the one who finally had the balls to do it."

"You think you're so brave," Deucalion scoffs.

"We're not brave," Aiden says, gesturing to himself and his twin. "We're just complicated."

Ethan's jaw drops. "Aiden, seriously, if you're gonna turn your back on the pack like that, leave me out of it!"

"No," Aiden says, setting his own jaw. "We're in this together, brother."

"Perhaps not for long," Deucalion says, twisting the cane in his hand. "Last chance, Aiden. Kill your Beta, or face the consequences."

"Maybe I wanna have a living Beta," Aiden says. "The only reason Ethan and I joined your Alpha pack is 'cause we had nowhere else to go. Not anymore. Now I see the truth. You know what they say - 'it's my way or the highway.' That's your philosophy, right, boss? We choose 'highway.'"

"You mean 'I,'" says Deucalion. "Your brother isn't on the same page as you are."

Aiden snorts. "Wanna bet?"

"I'm not a gambling man." Deucalion cracks a nasty grin for a split second. "I know one thing, though, Aiden - you're impulsive. You don't stick to what you know will work, not like Ethan. Ethan would gladly be a loyal lapdog for the rest of his life, given the chance." He taps the cane against the step a few more times. "There's no challenge there, though. It makes my decision almost too easy."

That's when he strikes, showing just how enhanced he truly is. With lightning speed, he rushes up to his chosen victim and sticks the red-tipped bottom of the cane (clearly concealing a poison spike of some kind) into his chest.

Ethan gasps, then looks at Aiden with horror-struck eyes.

Finally, Deucalion removes the spike from his body. "I'd rather have courage than loyalty," he says as his victim falls with terrifying slowness.

Ethan is dead long before he hits the ground.


	8. See Your True Colours Shining Through

*****STILES*****

Lydia sinks to her knees, screaming as her power kicks in a second too late. Jackson and I run to her side and help her up. She's unsteady on her feet, so we can't let go of her for a few seconds.

Deucalion stalks off, leaving us to gape at the sight of Aiden sobbing pitifully over his twin's corpse. He looks utterly broken, and I almost feel bad for him.

Almost.

Of course, nobody deserves to lose their family like this. God knows if I were in his shoes, with Scott (who's my brother in all but blood) lying dead at the bottom of Derek's half-rotted porch steps, I'd be the same way. Inconsolable. Devastated.

I have to remind myself, though, that Aiden was the one who turned Allison. That he'd bitten so many others in the past, if what he and Ethan had said during their final conversation with Deucalion is anything to go by. That he'd killed so many of his victims.

"Stiles, what are you doing?" Scott asks as I approach the side of Derek's porch.

"What does it look like?" I grab one of the vertical wooden bars between the floor and the railing with both hands, then pull until I take a foot-long section off.

"That's my property you're damaging!" Derek yells. "You better have an explanation for this."

"I do believe he's gonna go all Jack Bauer on this mofo's arse," Hunter says. "And yeah, I'm paraphrasing his thoughts. A direct quote would've been censored if this were on TV."

"No!" Allison runs out and holds me back. No, really, she holds me back, just by holding on to my arm. Already her werewolf strength is building up.

Struggling to break free of her grasp, I say, "We need answers, Allison. I'm sorry, but it's the truth."

"Answers, maybe," Allison says, "but not-"

Scott takes her wrist until she lets go of me. "I think he knows what he's doing," he says. "And if he's getting too rough with him, I'll stop him myself."

"Please don't stop me," I say. I then walk over to Aiden and gently nudge his shoulder with one end of the wood - the less sharp end. He looks up at me, tears running down his cheeks, his eyes red - by which I mean "bloodshot," not "werewolf-glow-y."

"Wh-What do you want?" he asks, gulping.

"Did you bite Allison?" I ask, bringing my voice as low as I can.

No answer, except for a soft whine. I nudge Aiden again, a little harder this time, and repeat the question. "Why the hell are you asking me that?" he cries. "I did it! I DID IT! Happy?"

"Hardly," I say. "Scott? What about you?"

Before Scott can answer, Aiden jumps to his feet, spinning around three hundred and sixty degrees. "I'm gonna kill him," he growls, his face shifting as his fangs sprout. "Where's Deucalion? I'm gonna fucking kill him!"

"Slow your roll," I say, gripping the wood as hard as I can and holding it like the makeshift baseball bat it is. "We don't just kill people without pausing and thinking it through first, focusing on the conseq-okay, forget it. I'm with you, believe it or not. I wanna see that blind assbutt bleed."

Derek doesn't like this side of me. "You do realize," he says, pointing at Aiden, "that if he kills Deucalion, he takes his power? _All_ his power?"

"That's a bridge we'll just have to cross when we get there," I say.

"This is less 'crossing a bridge' than 'crossing the Rubicon,' from what I'm hearing," Lydia says, still panting. By now, though, she doesn't need anyone to help her stand - she's doing just fine on her own. Trust her to come up with an obscure historical reference. Next thing you know, she'll be quoting Sun-Tzu. (I mean all that as a compliment, of course. I could never insult or belittle her. She already gets enough of that from people who know her ditzy act is just that, an act, and neither understand nor appreciate the reasons why she does, in her words, "plenty of sucking" for Jackson's benefit. In more ways than one, I'm afraid.)

"Don't exaggerate," says Hunter. "I sense that this dashing young man with the killer good looks has some good in him."

"Like Darth Vader?" Isaac asks.

Clicking his tongue, Hunter says, "Exactly."

"Whatever," Skylar says, directing her gaze roughly in the direction Deucalion took when he left. "Can we get a move on and find him? If we dawdle much longer, I'll lose the scent."

As she sets off without another word, I turn to Derek and ask, "Are vampires really that good at bloodhounding?"

"Yeah," Derek says. "Of course they are. How do you think they know where to find live blood sources?"

"Like we're not alive ourselves," Skylar calls back.

"You know what I mean!" Derek yells.

"Wait!" Aiden cries behind us - he's the only one who hasn't gotten moving. "What about Ethan? We can't just leave him here!"

"Stiles, Jackson, go help him," Derek says without more than a second's hesitation.

"You too, Hunt," Skylar says.

I gnash my teeth - which, as the only non-supernatural in this group, aren't all that impressive. "Just 'cause I'm the human, you're putting me on burial duty?" I glower at Derek. "Real nice of you, buddy."

"You could use the workout," Hunter says, walking past me and squeezing my arm.

"Oh, right, 'cause that's the secret to all you guys' muscles, isn't it?" I mutter as I follow him and Jackson back to the twins. "Instead of lifting weights, you lift corpses."

Hunter chuckles at my joke. "No, my secret is eating lots and lots of fish. I'm part feline, remember?"

When we reach the twins, Aiden's still on his knees, holding his brother's hand as if expecting him to come back to life with a deep breath and a scream any second. He's also looking at the backs of the rest of the pack, plus Skylar, as they set off.

"Torn, aren't you?" I ask. "You wanna stay here and give him a good send-off, but you also wanna go with them and get a chance to get your revenge."

With a sniff, Aiden lets go of Ethan and gets to his feet. "It's so...it's so hard."

"Yeah..." I don't know what else to say to that, so I try for something a little nicer. "Hey, I'm sorry I got rough with you before. That was my bad."

"No, I kinda had it coming," Aiden says. "All the bad shit I've done had to come bite me in the ass sometime. I just wish it didn't have to bite this hard."

"We've all got crosses to bear," Jackson says. "Some of us more than others."

"All right, we'll save the war stories for later," Hunter says, grabbing Ethan's arms one at a time. "Preferably when we're around a campfire with cans of beans, maybe even beers..." He stops as he sees nobody's laughing. Then he tries to lift Ethan, only to end up landing flat on his ass. _That_ actually makes me laugh, but only me, and only for a second. Call me immature, I guess. "Jesus," he groans, getting to his feet and dusting himself off. "He's heavier than he looks."

"I could've told you that," Aiden says, his voice so quiet I can barely hear him. Jackson and Hunter can probably hear him just fine, though. Darn werewolf ears. Werelynx ears, in Hunter's case.

Jackson and Hunter take one of Ethan's arms each, while Aiden and I lift his legs. Together, we carry him into the cabin and lay him on the ruins of an old sofa. With Jackson, I search the cabin for shovels, spades, any kind of implements that could be used for digging. Hunter keeps an eye on Aiden, and it's clear neither of them is too happy about it. But Jackson and I are the only ones who've been here before (not counting Aiden, who seems to have been squatting here for a time along with his twin.) So, by the logic (which is, admittedly, paper-thin at best), we're the ones who should know this place best.

"My dad better not find this," I say to myself later as I dig a shallow grave. Yeah, that's right, a shallow grave. I feel like I'm the one who killed Ethan as a result. Jackson and I have found one shovel in the basement - along with a number of clubs and assorted weightlifting equipment which could also be used as weapons. Derek wouldn't approve, probably. But then, Derek's not here. So if we have to make a snap decision to defend ourselves, hopefully he'll understand.

"It's not like we have any backhoes or whatever," Jackson says. He's pacing around the edge of the slowly-expanding hole in the ground. Aside from Aiden, who's had one of us guarding him at all times, we've all been taking turns digging for the last half-hour or so - I'm just guesstimating, having not even dared to sneak a look at my watch for some reason.

"Right, right, right," I say, wiping sweat from my forehead. "We don't exactly have a movie budget here." I look around at the hole I'm currently in - it's now about a foot deep and five feet long. Expanding its length, I say, "Wonder if the others have caught up to Deucalion yet."

"Knowing my sister," Hunter says, "they've probably found him and sucked him dry by now."

"I wish," Aiden says. He then gets up and walks over to me, holding out his hand. "Let me dig."

I look at Jackson, then at Hunter. Between the former's ability to sense one's pulse and the latter's telepathy (and I'm sure Hunter's also got the same Living Lie Detector power as the werewolves), I'm counting on them to keep Aiden honest. They don't seem to object to me giving him the shovel, however, so that's what I do.

Aiden works fast, expanding the hole to a little over six feet long in less than three minutes. I know because I time it by playing "Dead Inside" in my head, and he finishes before the end of the second chorus. Now that he's done, I could probably lie on my back and stretch my arms over my head, and just manage to fit in the hole.

Returning inside, we pick up Ethan's body and take him outside before he can irretrievably stink up Derek's old place. Not that it doesn't reek of rot and ruin and half-burned wreckage already, but the stench of decomp wouldn't be a welcome addition to that odorous mélange.

After we lay him in the grave, Aiden walks around the hole and picks up a handful of the dirt we dug up before. He then comes back around to the side where the rest of us are standing and looks down at his brother. Kneeling at the hole's edge, he finally uses one hand to close Ethan's eyes - I'd been meaning to ask why nobody had done that by now.

"I'm not gonna make excuses for what we've done," he says. "But I'm gonna do right by us from now on, Ethan. I'm..." He stops to wipe the tears that have already begun to form in his eyes. "I-I'm gonna prove that I'm not just a stupid, bad-boy Alpha with a...with a pretty face. I'm gonna show 'em that I can be a good guy too." He lets go of the dirt, letting it sprinkle on Ethan's chest and cover the small but dark and disgusting hole left by Deucalion's spike. "For you."

If my dad were here, in my shoes, he'd try to figure out for himself if Aiden was being sincere. Me, I'm inclined to think he is, because unless you're a total sociopath, you'll definitely want to get some measure of revenge if your brother was killed right in front of your eyes. And, if you have any good in you, but it's been suppressed, whether by nature or nurture (I'm thinking Deucalion doesn't count as either)...what better motivator to let that side show? Being bad didn't get Ethan anywhere in the end, and Deucalion could have just as easily ganked Aiden the same way.

Next thing we know, Aiden's back on his feet and wrapping his arms around Hunter as he sobs. He probably picked him because he's the only one who really matches him in size - Jackson and I being considerably shorter than both of them, we'd probably get knocked over if Aiden tried to hug us like that. I'm actually surprised that I ended up being taller than Jackson, but being skinnier means I'd still lose to him in a one-on-one fight, even if we were both human.

Hunter tentatively returns the hug, while I shovel more dirt over Ethan. I try to be as gentle with that as possible - I don't want to look like I'm dumping the dirt on him. It takes a while, but soon, I've got all the dirt back in place, and even smoothed it out so it looks the same as when we started.

"All right," Hunter says, letting go of Aiden and rubbing the tear-stains left on his shoulder. "What say we go reunite with the others?"

"I'll call them and ask where they are," Jackson says. He gets out his phone and dials a number, then holds his phone to his ear while we walk into the woods, back towards town. "Huh," he says after a while. "It's just going to voicemail."

"Who are you trying to call?" I ask.

"Derek."

"Try again," I say. "I'll call Scott."

"And I'll call Skylar," Hunter says.

The three of us stop and make those calls. We all gather in a sort of circle around Aiden, implicitly ensuring that he doesn't try and attack us or anything. He seems to get the message, if the resigned look on his face is anything to go by. Not that he looks like he's in any condition to attack - he's puffy-eyed and his hands are shaking. At this moment, it's easy to forget he's a deadly werewolf - right now, he just looks like a scared, overgrown kid.

Five rings go by, and my call is directed to Scott's voicemail. I leave a message for him, as Hunter does for Skylar. Jackson clenches his fist, but doesn't leave a message for Derek. Instead, he says, "I'm calling Lydia next."

Why didn't I think of that?

We watch with bated breath until... "Lydia? Oh, thank God." Jackson puts one hand on the back of his neck. "Where the hell are you? We can't reach anyone." He stops to let her talk, then says, "You're what? No, you gotta be k-okay, stay where you are. We'll come get you in a few minutes!"

"Where are they?" I ask.

"She's with Isaac and Allison," Jackson says, running full-tilt through the woods. As we race to follow him, he adds, "They got separated from the others!"

"What happened?" Hunter asks.

"She didn't say!"

Before long, we reach the edge of a bluff overlooking the town. It's one of Scott's favorite hangout spots - and also the place where he and Allison took each other's virginity, if I remember correctly.

Scott, however, is nowhere to be seen. But Allison's there, along with Lydia and Isaac. "Where are the others?" I ask.

"Th-The Alphas," Isaac stutters. "They took them. We...we were lucky to get away."

"You mean the rest of old pack?" Aiden asks.

"Judging from all the red eyes, yeah," Allison says.

Lydia fixes Aiden with a dirty look. "Are you sure we can trust him?"

"I wouldn't," Aiden says, looking down at the crunched-up remains of dead leaves on his shoes.

"Where was the last place you saw them?" Hunter asks, bouncing on the balls of his own feet.

"Uh..." Allison pauses, pounding her head to rack her brain. "Um...they were leaving the woods. I think they were going to Derek's place."

"His warehouse loft, right?" I ask.

"Mm-hmm."

"What is it about that place that's attracting everyone we don't want around?" I mutter. "All right, come on." I set off for the path heading downhill into town. "We got friends to save. Unless they can save themselves first."

"I'd bet good money that Skylar will set them all free," Hunter says. "Did she tell you about the time she had to escape from a locked coffin?"

"Something like that, yeah."

Hunter grins. "I think that skill's gonna come in handy sooner rather than later."  


	9. I See The Light And The Heat In Your Eyes

*****DEREK*****

Skylar, Scott, and I stick it out as long as we can when Deucalion's remaining goons ambush us on the edge of the woods. Scott, for his part, pushes Lydia, Isaac, and Allison out of the circle that's formed around us, and then yells, "Get to the lookout! We'll meet you there in fifteen minutes!"

"Don't make promises you can't keep," I say in an undertone. Like this one - naturally, the three of us quickly find ourselves subdued. Damn, these Alpha Pack werewolves are nothing to sneeze at.

One of the Alphas muscles us into the back of a van - how typical. Then, once we're all inside, he produces several sets of handcuffs, one for each of us.

"Aww, and they're not even the fuzzy kind," I say, rolling my eyes. "What kind of S&M orgy are you guys planning, huh?"

The Alpha growls at me, but otherwise gives no response.

Before long, we arrive at an unexpected destination - my loft. There, they bring us upstairs to the main floor, right in front of the big window overlooking the town, and leave us alone - presumably to await the arrival of their master.

I turn around and gaze through the window for a second. It's late afternoon, coming on five o'clock, I think. Because the window has a western exposure, that means the sun really streams through it at this time of day. I look to my left, where Skylar sits. She's mostly protected by her hoodie, but her hands are fully exposed to the sun. Leaning back, I see them starting to blister ever so slightly.

"Didn't you say you escaped from a locked coffin once?" I ask her.

"Oh, this is nothing," Skylar says in a tight voice. "The only problem is...my lock-picking kit is in my front pocket."

I tilt my head as I look more closely at the kangaroo-like pouch in the front of her hoodie. Sure enough, I see a small bulge in there, in the shape of what might be a small tin box. I cross in front of her and clumsily stick my hand as far into her pocket as I can get it with the cuffs still on. Yep, there it is - a little tin box. Now all I have to do is get a good hold on it, preferably with two fingers - and I've got it.

"Open it," Skylar says. I obey her orders as best I can. It's clumsy work, but I soon pop the box open. As I do so, I smell a faint tang of metal - and also a stronger mint scent. "Wait a minute..." I mutter. "Is this an Altoids tin?"

"'God save the Queen,'" Skylar says, quoting a slogan I remember from one of the first Altoids ads they ever had around here. "'We'll take care of her breath.'"

"Uh...okay then." I creep around her and position myself so our backs are turned to each other.

"You're not gonna try and pick the lock yourself, are you?" she asks.

"Unless you're the sort of fearless daredevil who can dislocate her thumbs and Houdini her way out of those cuffs," I say, "let me help you. Scott, keep an eye on the door. If you hear anyone coming, let me know."

"Won't you want me to look at the cuffs?" Scott suggests. "Someone's gotta see what you're doing."

I grit my teeth. "Fine, but keep your ears open. And your nose, if yours is sharp enough to smell Deucalion."

"You could do with keeping your ears open too, couldn't you?" Skylar asks.

I carefully pick a hairpin out of the tin, which I leave on the ground before sticking the pin into Skylar's handcuff lock. Or, at least, trying to. "A little more to the left," Scott says. "Uh...no, the right. Your right."

I move the pin to my right, and hear it click as it falls into place in the lock. Good. Now I just have to wiggle it around until I can - another click. There we go. I've almost got it. This is so much more complicated than I'm making it sound. I swear, I'm not built for this kind of fine-motor-skill work.

_Click. Click. Snap._

For a long, horrible second, I'm scared I may have broken the pin. But no - I hear the cuffs fall open and slide harmlessly off Skylar's wrists.

"Thanks," she says, hooking her fingers around mine for a moment, just long enough to take the hairpin. I'm surprised by how warm her skin is - I was under the impression vampires, because of their serious pallor and diminished (though not nonexistent) pulses, ran cold. Maybe if I were to look at her with wolf-vision, though, she'd look just as healthy and warm as any normal human.

"Do Scott next," I say, turning around and gesturing to him with my head.

Skylar looks from Scott to me, then winks. "I think he's a little young for me, thanks."

Scott's mouth turns up at the corners for a second, but then he starts humming the Imperial March from _Star Wars._

"What the...?" I begin, only to stop and stiffen when I hear footsteps beyond the door. "Shit. Wait...that's your way of signaling me?"

"It was the first thing that came to mind," Scott says.

Skylar stuffs the handcuffs into her pocket, then holds her hands behind her back so she can feign a continued state of captivity for Deucalion's benefit. Assuming he's the one who-

"Hello again."

I narrow my eyes. Of course he's back. I hate this guy so much.

"No villain can resist bragging about their evil plans before killing the good guys," I say. "Now's your chance to uphold tradition."

"Your cheek never fails to amuse me," Deucalion says, turning his blind eyes on me.

"You heard him," Skylar says. "Blab away, O Dark Lord."

Deucalion lets out what sounds like a squeaky-toy giggle. "I only wanted to see if you were interested in joining my Alpha Pack, Derek," he says. "Is that too much to ask?"

"No," I say, "but the answer is no. Every time. Sorry, but I'm not willing to business with you. It'd violate my code."

"I'm almost afraid to ask," Deucalion says silkily, "but...what code?"

"Try honor," I say, venom creeping into my tone. "A sense of duty. Protective instincts. All things you lack."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Deucalion says, pouting.

"It's true, though," Scott says. "I barely know you, but I can tell one thing about you - you only care about power."

"And courage," Deucalion pipes up.

"But with your priorities the way they are, your soul is empty." Skylar's arms twitch. She must be itching to bring them back in front of her body and whack Deucalion in the face.

"I won't pretend I'm any True Alpha," Deucalion snickers. He regards Scott with a baleful expression. "Do you know what that is?"

Scott shakes his head. "Never heard of it."

"I can't imagine your Alpha would've taught you about it anyway," Deucalion says, turning to me with a curt nod. "He's got a scattershot way of training his people, doesn't he?" He heaves a sigh. "A True Alpha receives his powers from pure willpower and strength of heart. Not from usurpation the way most Alphas do." He sniffs the air like the predator he is. "You know what, Derek? I suspect that somewhere in your pack, you might have a future True Alpha lurking about. So if you change your mind and join me, your Betas likely won't become Omegas as you undoubtedly fear. No, no, there will be a True Alpha around whom the others will rally."

I exchange glances with Scott, who raises a questioning eyebrow. I simply roll my eyes, wishing my cuffs could be off so I could spin one finger next to my head. _Cuckoo, cuckoo._

"I saw that," Deucalion laughs, his head snapping so he directly faces me.

"Of course you did," I grouse, shaking my head. At the same time, I catch a glimpse of Skylar. She's very slowly moving around Deucalion, gingerly balancing on tiptoe as she walks. A dainty ballerina she's not, however. She's got her Altoids tin in hand. I have to wonder, though - what kinds of weapons does she have in there? Besides hairpins, that is.

Because she's so silent, she doesn't trip whatever bat-sonar he's got. Satisfying an earlier curiosity of mine, I switch on my wolf-vision and see her heat signature. It's not as strong as Deucalion's or Scott's, but there's still a soft orange glow around her tall, lithe form. It occurs to me that, were she to have been bitten by a werewolf as Hunter was, she'd probably have a similar feline form to his. Could be a werelynx, could be a weretiger. Maybe even a werejaguar.

"Aww, and you're giving me the pretty eyes," Deucalion teases me.

"I don't know any True Alpha," I say. "If that's what you really want - to corrupt such a one-in-a-million werewolf - you're wasting your time. So fuck off."

"You lie," Deucalion says. "You know of a True Alpha in the making in your ranks." He stretches out his hand, allowing one clawed finger to stroke my cheekbone.

"You know what happened the last time someone did that to me?" I growl. "I lost my virginity. In retrospect, though, I chose exactly the wrong woman to fall head over heels for."

"You don't even need to say which Beta of yours is the True Alpha," Deucalion says. "Just let me into your mind." He pulls back, all his claws out.

I catch Skylar's eye - she's behind Deucalion now. " _Under his claws,_ " I mouth, seeing her take the hairpin from the tin again.

Deucalion stops short. "Wait a second..."

Even as enhanced as he is, he can't see this coming. Skylar grabs his wrist, then shoves the pin under his claw.

For a second, Deucalion's face is frozen in 100% pure crystal-grade surprise. Then he howls loudly enough to make my windows crack ominously.

Kids, don't try this at home. There's no faster way to make a werewolf hate your guts than to go for the claws. It's almost as bad as a direct kick to the balls. Trust me, I know from experience.

While Deucalion writhes in pain, Skylar takes the pin back and unlocks Scott, then me. "Now what?" she whispers.

"The lookout," I whisper. "Scott knows that place pretty well by now, I think."

"What d'you mean?" Skylar asks.

Scott blushes. "What he means," he laughs, "is that it's the town's make-out point."

"Of course it is," Skylar says. "It sure sounds like one, now I think about it."

"The others better be there," I say, ushering Scott and Skylar out the door as Deucalion gets back to his feet. "I don't wanna spend all night doing search and rescue."

"Not to mention 'search and destroy,'" Skylar mutters.

"F-For the rest of the Alpha Pack, you mean?" Scott asks, more than a trace of hesitation in his voice. Good - at least someone around here is still more human than the rest. Unlike Deucalion, I can appreciate that, especially in a kid like Scott.

"They're too bloody dangerous," Skylar says. She puts up her hood again as we leave the building. "My parents told me to use any force necessary to subdue them, if need be."

"Don't kill them," Scott says, his voice still shaking a bit.

"No," I say, in agreement with him. "That's what Deucalion wants. I'm sure of it. He wants us to kill his Alphas and take their places."

"I wouldn't at all be surprised if that were true," Skylar says. "From what I've seen, your pack would make powerful allies to anyone who wanted to recruit you to their cause."

I stop for a second to process her unexpected words of respect. "Thank you," I say.

"Do I detect a chink in your strong and silent bad-boy armor?" Skylar asks. She reaches up to pinch my cheek affectionately. This, combined with her crooked smile, serves to enhance the family resemblance between her and Hunter. "Okay, Scott. Lead the way to your lookout make-out point, yeah?" 


	10. I'm Waiting For Someone To Count Me In

*****STILES*****

By the time we get back to Derek's place, he, Scott, and Skylar are racing out the door. Hunter attempts to hug his sister, but she brushes him off. "Sorry, but they're chasing us," she says. "No time for that!"

"Who's chasing..." I begin. Then I hear rumbling echoing from upstairs. "Oh. Oh, that's..."

"Not good, I know," Scott says. He grabs my wrist and turns me around. "Come on, we're leaving!"

"And going where?" I ask.

"The cabin," says Derek.

"Really?"

"It's the best place for us to make our final stand!" He stays behind to make sure we're all running, then follows closely behind me and Lydia. Man, we really _are_ the slowest ones here. Maybe Lydia's got a good excuse because she's the shortest in our group, but me? Not so much. I mean, I'm not tall like Derek or Hunter, but I've got pretty long legs - which are probably the only reason I'm the same height as Scott. I mean, seriously, though. I'm better than this. I'm not just some gangly kid with zero athletic ability. Even a wacky assbite of a coach like Finstock wouldn't keep me on the lacrosse team if I didn't show some level of potential.

Suddenly, I realize Lydia's falling behind a bit. That means either I'm subconsciously making myself accelerate, or she's slowing down. Unsure which is worse, I fall back into step with her and ask, "Something wrong?"

She shakes her head. "No. Why would there be?"

"You're looking a little pale," I say. I'm not kidding - even her always-lipsticked lips aren't as bright and shiny as they usually are. Is this some kind of banshee thing?

"I've barely had anything to eat all day," Lydia says, "but..."

I wonder if Scott could smell a...what was it he called me this morning? Oh yeah - "a sugar crash waiting to happen." Well, maybe he can't _smell_ it, but...I fall even further behind Lydia so I can ask Derek.

He focuses his glowing eyes on Lydia for a second, then says, "No, I don't really see anything wrong. Maybe you're just reading too much into things."

"But just say-"

"Don't worry about it," Derek says. "As soon as we deal with these guys, I'll get us all fueled up. I know a really good pizza place in Hill Valley."

He's got that "Don't argue" look on his face, and I'm not going to push it. My favorite sour wolf needs to be allowed to keep his single-minded focus. I run on ahead, catching up to Lydia as we get back into the woods.

By the time we return to the cabin, Jackson's also caught on to Lydia's not-so-healthy appearance, and like me, he's expressed his his concerns. "I dunno," Lydia says. "I just...I think I'm getting a vibe."

"A banshee vibe?" I ask, dreading the answer.

"I hope not," she says.

"You'd scream for anyone who dies, right?" Jackson asks.

I raise my eyebrows. "Dude. Let's please not go there, okay?"

"Anyone, yeah," Lydia says. "Whether they're on our side or not. I think."

"You've not had much practice with this, we know," I say. I look around and see everyone else rushing through the cabin's front door. "Come on, let's get inside." Derek and I stay behind to watch Lydia and Jackson go in, then we follow them, closing the door behind us. "Now what?" I ask. "I hope we don't let them surround us before we make our move."

"Of course not," Derek says, doing a facepalm. "However could we be so stupid?" He leads us down into the basement, where he opens a hatch in the floor.

"Well, that's disgusting." Hunter leans over the open hole and wrinkles his nose. I don't know about him, but I don't smell anything, other than a tinge of earthworm-infused soil.

Aiden bites his lip. "I know, but...beggars can't be choosers." He's the first to venture into the dark, dirty depths.

"Where does this lead?" asks Allison.

"It resurfaces in another part of the woods about a quarter-klick southwest," Derek says. He pauses, clearly as surprised as any of us at his own use of military terminology. "There's no chance Deucalion's people are coming that way, so we'll be able to turn the tables on them."

"Then let's go already," Scott says. He gestures to Allison to climb down the hole. "I'll be right behind you," he says.

"Just don't lose your footing," she laughs. "I don't think I'm strong enough to take your weight on top of my head."

 _Yeah, but on top of the rest of you?_ I have to really work hard to resist the urge to say that out loud. Sometimes, there's no place for my sweetly snarky attitude. I'll just have to find such a place later. It's a sort of mental muscle that I can't allow to atrophy, because I don't have enough of the physical kind. I'm getting there, but I'm still no Scott or Jackson or Derek.

We all go through the tunnel single-file, crawling most of the way - especially Hunter and Derek and Aiden, being the biggest and tallest among us. One of us might want to invent a new super-bleach just for occasions such as these, when our clothes - and our bodies - end up coated in moist, gritty dirt that refuses to come out. Oh wait - isn't that what OxiClean is for?

Ahead of me, I hear Isaac cough and splutter. "Ugh," he groans. "I don't think I'll ever get used to this."

"What, swallowing dirt by mistake?" I ask.

"No, worse." I can't see it, not really, but I can picture him shuddering. "Somehow, a cigarette butt wound up all the way down here."

"Uncle Peter," Derek mutters.

I'm so totally not surprised to learn that evil creeper was ever a smoker. "Now I know what a-"

"Please don't say 'TV dinner,'" Derek says.

"Actually, I was gonna say 'a turd crawling through Satan's butthole.'"

There's the snark I was waiting to break out. And then there's Derek taking his turn to choke on dirt for a second, mostly from trying not to laugh.

When we emerge from the secret passageway, the sunlight blinds us for a moment. We all take some time to let our eyes adjust, then Derek leads us back towards the cabin. By the time we get down there, the Alpha Pack has already gathered near the front door. Deucalion, in particular, has found his way to the spot where we buried Ethan. Now how could he do that despite being blind?

He scuffs his shoes on the freshly-turned earth. "They took the time to bury him," he says. "See? These people waste their time on such stupid sentimentality."

To my left, Aiden clenches his fist. To my right, Derek sneers at the sight. As for me, I'm surprised to see that there are so relatively few Alphas in this Pack. Only five, not counting Deucalion. Well, there would've been seven with the twins included, but that's no longer the case.

"You can't let these _human_ feelings hold you down!" Deucalion yells. Is it just me, or is he looking our way? "That's the quickest way to put your powers to waste! As you've already found out to your cost, Aiden!"

"All right, that's it!" Before anyone can stop him, Aiden leaps forward, wolfing out and snarling at his erstwhile boss. "You're dead!"

Deucalion sneers all over again. "Good luck. Even with the rest of your newfound friends on your side, you can't possibly defeat us all."

Where Aiden was standing just seconds ago, there lies a large fallen tree branch, one of the kind that I've seen people whittle into walking sticks for hiking. I grab it slowly, and then Derek grabs the hem of my shirt. "No," he says. "You're not gonna-"

"What, we're just gonna let him take these guys alone?" I reach down to peel Derek's fingers off my flannel. He must not even be trying to hold on, because he lets go shockingly fast. Then I run out and join Aiden, holding the big stick like a fighting staff.

"Who's this?" Deucalion snickers. "Oh, a human. How embarrassing. Derek sends his least-powerful associate to fight in his-"

"There's another difference between our packs," Derek says as he and Scott come out of the woods and cross in front of me and Aiden. "In mine, independent thought isn't a crime."

I turn around to see Allison and Skylar making their way out from behind the trees as well. Then I spot one of the Alphas trying to sneak up on Derek. I run after him, brandishing my staff and whipping it right into his jaw.

That's when the fight breaks out. Alphas target each and every one of us. Deucalion goes after Derek, and his lesser Alphas get the rest of us. But none of us are the easy pickings they probably expected us to be. The two girls are particularly dangerous, especially Skylar. Remind me to never get her pissed off - she might just bite me and drain half a pint of my blood in one gulp. Which is exactly what she does to her Alpha.

As for the rest of us - those who are werewolves, anyway - they engage in hand-to-hand combat, mostly. I'm the only one using a weapon, because I'm the only human among us. The staff serves me pretty well, but only when I'm keeping my angry Alpha out of arm's reach. When he gets closer to me, that's when things really start getting hairy - pun intended. It's all I can do to push his face away from me so he can't bite me, but as for his claws? They're shredding my clothes, and sharp jolts of pain in my midsection tell me my meat suit is being breached too.

I take a look around and see I'm not the only one taking a beating. Scott has bruises forming on his cheek - and with his skin so dark, they really have to be major bruises to show like that already. Allison's dirt-matted hair is now getting caked with blood - although I'm pretty sure it belongs to her opponent. And Derek has a fresh cut on his face, his blood getting stuck in his stubble.

Agony tears through me, and I realize I've been distracted too long. My Alpha slashes his biggest cut yet to my torso. I get one last burst of energy and staff-whip him in the skull, finally knocking him down for good.

But that looks to be my downfall. I find myself growing lightheaded, very fast. I fall to my knees, clutching my arm against my chest. And then I realize I've been cut not only there, but near my armpit as well. Isn't there some major artery in that part of the body? Or is that the arm?

"Oh shit." I realize my arm's been cut as well. Blood pours from the gashes, making me sick to my stomach.

I'm hyperventilating. Panicking. Oh God.

"Help...me..." I can't speak in any level above a stage whisper at this point. My eyes flutter shut, and I try to force them open, but they refuse to stay open for more than a second at a time.

Scott and Allison see me struggling, and run to my side as soon as they deliver final, fight-ending blows to their own Alphas. What can they do, though? Can one of them bite me? Can a Beta turn a human, or can only Alphas like Derek do that?

My eyes open again, giving me a photographic impression of Skylar biting and punching out Aiden's alpha. My eyes close, and all I sense is a rushing in my ears, along with what sounds like a scream somewhere in the background.

Don't let that be Lydia.

Don't let me die.

Please...  


	11. Check My Vital Signs

*****DEREK*****

I see Stiles fall, bleeding profusely from a cut to his side, practically up into his armpit.

Somewhere, Lydia screams, and I'm immediately scared that he's about to die. But no, she's not even looking at him. She's looking at an Alpha right as Aiden claws his throat out, tearing his jugular.

As Scott and Allison race to Stiles' side, I zero in on the Alpha who hurt him.

I direct you back to the third rule of my pack.

This fucker's ass is mine. As are those of the rest of his people. They're through. They'd better get ready to get on their knees and beg Saint Peter for forgiveness.

One by one, Alphas go down as I strategically claw the backs of their necks. Each time, I get a couple of seconds to look into their minds. I don't stick around very long - just long enough to make them bleed, and remind them of all the horrors in their pasts. And like most werewolves, they have plenty to spare.

All in all, the majority of the Alpha Pack goes down in less than a minute. And then there's Deucalion. He looks genuinely shocked at how easily his poor unfortunate minions have been defeated. Then he snaps out his claws, drops his cane, turns my way, and rushes at me.

All right, you sick son of a bitch. Bring it on.

I play chicken with him, waiting for him to get just barely within striking distance before jumping out of the way. He reaches out with both arms, and the claws on his left hand rake my leg. It stings like hell, but I need to power through it. Stiles is in so much more trouble than I am. As much as Scott and Allison - and now Lydia - are fighting to help him regain consciousness, he's not. I need to help him, now. But first...

Deucalion roars at me - or, more accurately, at the space to the side of my head. I stay still, thinking for a split second that maybe he won't see me. Like in _Jurassic Park._ Of course, I'm quickly disabused of that foolish notion. He zeroes in on me all over again, using whatever infrared vision or bat-like echolocation he's got at his disposal. Frankly, at this point, I don't care how he does it. I just care about defeating him once and for all.

I won't be alone, either. Skylar slides up behind Deucalion and then jumps onto him, grabbing hold and not letting go. Her hood falls off, exposing her skin, but by now the sun's mostly hidden behind the cabin. She's at no risk of burning, not now. But getting hurt in other ways? Different story, one that could end pretty badly. Let's try to keep the ending a little more firmly on the side of good, huh? Not that it's firmly there anyway...and now I think I'm channeling Stiles all of a sudden. I would expect him to narrate everything in this kind of long-winded fashion. And to show awareness that there's a narrative being read to begin with.

Deucalion's blind eyes are just as sensitive to physical attacks as anyone's, so that's what Skylar targets with her thumbs. She pulls off his sunglasses and throws them aside, then digs her thumbnails into his corneas. She doesn't seem to be enjoying it any more than he is, and if anything, she looks even more horrified.

I allow her a second or two of this before racing forward and pulling her off of Deucalion, who hits the floor, holding his eyes as they bleed. No, I don't mean he literally holds his eyes in his hands - he's just covering them as the blood drips down his cheeks. Both of them. Skylar's thumbnails aren't that long - neither are any of her others - but she really knows how to dish out maximum damage with them.

Whatever he's got to help him "see," it seems to have been lost in this attack, so I take advantage of that. He doesn't even react at all until after I've one-two punched him right in the stomach. He's got ripped abs for a man of his age, but not like mine (not to brag), so he folds almost in half under my fists. Then I bring my knee up into his chest, sending him sprawling and landing on his back.

"You might be a big strong super-Alpha," I say, leaning over him, "but you're not stronger than my pack." I spit on the ground next to his head.

Skylar grimaces at the sight, then hisses, "Do you surrender?"

Deucalion doesn't give us a verbal answer - he's still trying to catch his breath. Instead, he rolls over, then gets to his feet. He looks at the ground, locates his cane - clearly his enhanced senses haven't failed him completely - and picks it up. The rest of his pack, those that are still alive, rise off the ground as well, then follow him as he leaves the scene. "We're not done with you yet," he says in what must be his lowest possible growl. "We'll come back sooner rather than later."

"We'll be waiting," I say. "And hopefully by then, you'll have finally learned we mean business."

"Guys!" Scott calls us over to where Stiles still lies motionless.

Skylar and I run to that spot. He looks like death itself - pale as marble, his layered clothes matted with lost blood. It's more than any human can survive.

Any _human._

I know now what I have to do, but before I can give him a much-needed bite, Skylar grabs my wrist and holds me back. "No," she says. "Let me do it."

"My way will save his life!" I say. "Exchanging blood with him is too risky!"

"Not as much as a werewolf bite in his condition!" Skylar cries. "If he doesn't turn, he'll die!"

"Unless he's secretly a banshee like Lydia?" suggests Scott.

I shake my head. "Impossible. Only women are banshees. Besides, Skylar, you don't know Stiles like I do! He's stronger than he looks! Something you might know a thing or two about!" I add as I struggle to break free of her grip.

"Vampire bites are less traumatic," Skylar says insistently. "You want him to live? Stand aside!"

Hunter clears his throat. "I'd listen to her, Derek. Let her turn him into a vampire, then give him some time to recover and see what he wants next. He'll never be human again, but maybe he'll want to be a werewolf like you?"

I don't want to say I'm losing the fight, but... "How long would that 'time to recover' last?"

"Three weeks, maybe a month," Hunter says with a shrug. Skylar concurs with a curt nod.

I finally get Skylar to let go of me, then I stand aside. "Save him. Please."

Skylar clears everyone else out from around Stiles, then kneels by his side. She extends her fangs, bites her wrist, and allows a generous amount of blood to flow out. That blood goes into Stiles' mouth. It finally gets a reaction from him - he twitches violently several times, but as Skylar lays a hand on his chest, he goes more still, calming down as he drinks her blood.

When he opens his eyes, they flash red for a moment before returning to their normal brown color.

"So..." he drawls, trying to sound cool about it. "When do I grow fangs?"

Scott runs in and embraces his friend, laughing with nothing short of the ultimate sense of relief. As for me, I wait until Skylar's backed away from Stiles, then I reach out and take her hand. "Thank you," I whisper.

She smiles at me, but only for a moment. "Don't thank me yet," she says. "We still have to work out the thorny little issue of how long he can stay a vampire in California in summer."

"We'll cross that bridge later," I say. "For now, though...thank God he's alive."

"Yeah," Skylar says. "Thank God. But if my parents find out about this-"

"They won't."

She shakes her head, laughing lightly as she lets go of my hand. "Derek, you have no idea. My parents scare me more than Deucalion."

"You're kidding."

Skylar's expression doesn't change. She's kidding, right? Right? Please tell me she's just doing what every good young soul does and exaggerating how horrible her parents are.

Whatever. I can't worry about the potential dangers of Mr. and Mrs. Renard Senior right now. We need to get back to town before Sheriff Stilinski starts opening another investigation too supernatural for him and his department to handle.  


	12. Credits

**RICKY PINE** presents

**TEEN SHE-WOLF**

CAST:

 **DYLAN O'BRIEN** \- Stiles Stilinski

 **TYLER HOECHLIN** \- Derek Hale

 **CRYSTAL REED** \- Allison Argent

 **TYLER POSEY** \- Scott McCall

 **COLTON HAYNES** \- Jackson Whittemore

 **DANIEL SHARMAN** \- Isaac Lahey

 **MELISSA BENOIST** \- Skylar Renard

 **CHARLIE CARVER** \- Ethan

 **MAX CARVER** \- Aiden

 **GRANT GUSTIN** \- Hunter Renard

 **KEAHU KAHUANUI**  - Danny Mahealani

 **HOLLAND RODEN** \- Lydia Martin

 **GIDEON EMERY** \- Deucalion

 **JOHN HANNAH** \- Thomas Renard

 

FEATURED MUSIC:

"GOLD"

Written BY Alexander Grant, Ben McKee, Daniel Platzman, Dan Reynolds, and Wayne Sermon

Performed by IMAGINE DRAGONS

"REBOOT THE MISSION"

Written by Jakob Dylan and The Wallflowers

Performed by THE WALLFLOWERS feat. MICK JONES

"MAD WORLD"

Written by Roland Orzabal

Performed by TEARS FOR FEARS

"MONEY FOR NOTHING"

Written by Mark Knopfler and Sting

Performed by DIRE STRAITS feat. STING

"HERE COMES THE NIGHT TIME"

Written and Performed by ARCADE FIRE

"RAINY DAY"

Written by Guy Berryman, Jonny Buckland, Will Champion, and Chris Martin

Performed by COLDPLAY

"TRUE COLORS"

Written by Tom Kelly and Billy Steinberg

Performed by PHIL COLLINS

"IN YOUR EYES"

Written and Performed by PETER GABRIEL

"SPIRALLING"

Written by Tim Rice-Oxley, Tom Chaplin, Richard Hughes, and Jesse Quin

Performed by KEANE

"BOULEVARD OF BROKEN DREAMS"

Written by Billie Joe Armstrong and Green Day

Performed by GREEN DAY

 

The heroes of **TEEN SHE-WOLF**  will return in **TEEN VAMP.**


	13. Some Of Us Make Mistakes

It's said that vampires can psychically sense when one of their brood infects another. The closest Thomas Renard had ever come to experiencing said sense was when his only son, Hunter, took a werewolf's bite, rejecting his family legacy.

Until now.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he sensed that Skylar had exchanged blood with a human. Knowing her, she was doing it for the sole purpose of keeping that human alive.

All she'd needed to in Beacon Hills was look into the rumors of Deucalion's resurgent Alpha Pack, as well as to bring Hunter back before he potentially infected that boy he'd been dating online. What had happened in that sleepy small town to necessitate such drastic action?

He placed his wallet in his pocket after paying for his red-eye ticket to San Francisco, knowing he would find out soon enough.


End file.
